HE 


V       Tfc     "V     fjp**     a'^Sa,       y        ^**  s       Y      > 

INTRIGl 


Acres  off', 
140  'Pacj. 


appletons' 
TTown  ant>  Country 


No.  203 


THE  INTRIGUERS 


THE    INTRIGUERS 


A   NO^EL 


BY 


JOHN   D.   BARRY 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1896 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


I. 

THIS  year  Harrington  Boyd  had  gone 
abroad  in  May  and  returned  early  in  July. 
The  two  weeks  in  Newport  that  followed 
bored  him  so  much  that  when  he  ran  up  to 
Boston  to  see  the  Norths,  who  had  a  cottage 
at  Magnolia,  he  resolved  not  to  go  back  there. 
The  Norths  worried  him  for  a  week ;  so,  by 
means  of  a  plausible  fiction  about  being  obliged 
to  return  to  New  York  to  confer  with  his  pub- 
lishers, he  escaped  from  their  clutches.  For  he 
found  that  to  be  with  the  Norths  was  really  to 
be  in  their  clutches.  They  paraded  him  inces- 
santly, till  he  grew  tired  of  his  literary  reputa- 
tion and  of  himself,  an  experience  he  had  never 
had  before.  Jack  North,  whom  he  had  known 
at  Columbia — the  Norths  had  drifted  from  New 
York  to  Boston  by  the  irony  of  business — Jack 
was  a  good  fellow,  but  his  widowed  mother  and 

his  unwedded  sister  were  persistent  and  pitiless 

i 

2061768 


2  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

celebrity-hunters.  Harrington  Boyd  was  so 
accustomed  to  using  other  people  that  he  found 
being  used  extremely  tiresome.  It  was  there- 
fore with  a  delicious  sense  of  relief  that  he 
stood,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  ist  of  August, 
alone  in  the  streets  of  Boston.  He  had  just 
left  Jack,  with  the  remark  that  he  should  take 
the  six  o'clock  train  for  New  York,  and  with 
some  difficulty  had  persuaded  him  not  to  wait 
to  see  him  off. 

Boston  always  amused  Harrington  Boyd. 
He  had  been  taught  to  look  at  it  from  the 
point  of  view  of  New  York,  which,  so  far  as 
it  relates  to  other  American  cities,  is  invariably 
humorous.  He  knew  it  chiefly  through  the 
Norths,  whose  uncertain  social  position  there 
afforded  him  secret  delight.  It  was  clever  of 
the  Bostonians  to  see  through  Mrs.  North,  he 
thought,  and  it  was  delightfully  snobbish  of 
them  to  patronize  her,  to  accept  her  on  suf- 
ferance, as  it  were  ;  for,  in  spite  of  her  ambi- 
tions and  her  moves,  she  was  a  Knickerbocker 
of  Knickerbockers,  a  Van  Rensselaer  on  one 
side  and  a  Schermerhorn  on  the  other.  How- 
ever, notwithstanding  their  little  conceits  and 
foibles  and  their  large  sympathy  for  those 
not  born  in  their  city,  Boyd  liked  the  Bosto- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  3 

nians.  It  occurred  to  .him  that  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  be  alone  in  Boston  for  a  while  ;  he 
could  enjoy  the  place,  and  he  could  also  have 
a  delicious  sense  of  freedom  from  the  Norths, 
spiced  with  the  danger  of  being  near  them, 
but  not  with  them. 

So  he  stayed  in  Boston  for  two  days,  prowl- 
ing and  deriving  an  almost  childish  pleasure 
from  the  risk  that  he  ran  of  encountering  Jack 
North  and  being  branded  as  a  liar.  Then  he 
found  the  town  hot,  and  he  resolved  to  take  a 
"  trip  down  the  harbour."  Every  one  in  Bos- 
ton, he  had  heard,  took  "  trips  down  the  har- 
bour." One  of  the  simple  joys  of  the  travelled 
Boston  mind  lay  in  pointing  out  the  superiority 
of  Boston  harbour  to  the  harbour  of  New 
York,  which  to  Harrington  Boyd  seemed  a 
wholly  fatuous  proceeding.  However,  as  he 
had  never  seen  Boston  harbour  before,  he  tried 
to  view  it  without  bias,  and,  in  spite  of  being 
hustled  and  jostled  on  one  of  the  morning 
boats,  he  liked  it.  The  crowd  drove  him  from 
the  boat  at  Hull.  He  lunched  at  the  Pember- 
ton  Hotel,  smoked  a  cigar  on  the  piazza,  sur- 
rounded on  three  sides  by  the  sea,  that  sent  a 
cool  breeze  across  his  face,  and  he  declared  the 
spot  delightful. 


4  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

A  moment  later  he  looked  up  and  saw  a 
tall,  handsome  girl  walking  along  the  piazza. 
Her  carriage,  the  pose  of  her  head,  the  outline 
of  her  face  and  figure,  struck  him  as  uncom- 
mon. She  was  walking  aimlessly,  apparently 
because  she  was  too  restless  to  sit.  When 
she  reached  the  end  of  the  piazza  he  saw  her 
face.  He  threw  his  cigar  away,  looked  across 
the  water,  and  said  to  himself :  "  By  Jove,  I'll 
stay  here !  I  can  work  here  as  well  as  any- 
where else — better.  Why  not?" 

Harrington  Boyd  was  not  a  man  of  quick 
resolves.  He  believed,  however,  there  were 
times  when  resolution  was  the  highest  of  quali- 
ties ;  this  was  one  of  them.  For  a  month  he 
had  been  nervous,  unable  to  work.  He  felt 
sure  that  he  could  write  here ;  he  would  take 
the  coolest  room  in  the  house,  where  there  was 
no  sun  in  the  morning.  The  afternoons  and 
evenings  he  would  have  for  recreation  and  in- 
vestigation. Once  before  he  had  met  a  subject 
like  this  girl ;  the  moment  he  saw  her  he  had 
recognised  her  value.  It  was  at  Bar  Harbor, 
early  in  the  season,  just  as  he  was  about  to 
leave  because  he  found  it  dull,  barren  of  mate- 
rial ;  but  there  he  had  had  so  many  obstacles 
to  contend  with,  so  many  distractions.  Here 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  5 

it  would  be  different ;  there  were  evidently 
few  people  at  the  hotel ;  the  men,  of  course, 
went  to  business  in  Boston  every  day.  He 
should  have  her  all  to  himself. 

He  knew  he  was  doing  the  eccentric  thing, 
but  he  had  done  it  so  successfully  before  that 
he  felt  no  hesitancy  now.  Besides,  he  could 
afford  to  be  eccentric.  With  him  literature  was 
a  game — as  much  of  a  game,  though  in  a  differ- 
ent way,  as  it  was  to  his  friend  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd, 
who  pretended  to  be  literary,  and  surrounded 
herself  with  writers,  because,  as  she  said,  they 
"amused"  her.  Mrs.  Ladd  was  rich,  and  she 
wanted  to  write,  but  she  couldn't.  Harrington 
Boyd  was  rich,  and  he  had  always  determined 
to  write  ;  he  knew  that  his  literary  gifts  were 
few,  but  he  had  read  somewhere  that  by  per- 
sistent endeavour  one  might  become  an  author. 
'So  at  Columbia  he  had  worked,  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  his  friends,  who  never  suspected  his 
motive ;  then  he  passed  three  years  in  Paris, 
studying  the  methods  of  the  French  short-story 
writers.  On  his  return  to  New  York  he  gravely 
announced  that  he  was  about  to  begin  a  literary 
career.  His  father,  who  was  himself  in  good 
practice,  had  hoped  to  make  a  lawyer  of  him, 
but  his  mother  was  pleased  that  he  had  turned 


6  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

in  disgust  from   the  musty  law  books  she  had 
always  been  jealous  of. 

For  a  year  after  his  return  nothing  appeared 
from  his  pen  ;  but  it  was  generally  understood 
that  he  was  about  to  do  something  fine.  Mrs. 
Follett  Ladd  proclaimed  her  faith  in  him  at 
many  a  ball  and  afternoon  tea.  It  was  re- 
ported that  Mrs.  Ladd  had  advised  him  to  "cut 
up  society."  In  his  first  published  story  he  did 
cut  up  society  mercilessly.  It  had  been  ex- 
tensively advertised  ;  he  himself  had  been 
boomed  as  the  young  society  man  who  was  en- 
tering literature,  apparently  to  help  it  along ; 
and  when  the  narrative  appeared  it  was  talked 
of  for  a  week,  and  Harrington  Boyd  was  made. 
It  was  a  curious  instance  of  extrinsic  success, 
for  the  work  itself  was  tawdry,  imitative,  and 
feeble  in  character-drawing.  Harrington  Boyd's 
cynicism  passed  for  wit,  his  stilted  English  for 
style,  his  misinterpretation  of  motive  for  sub- 
tle analysis.  Women  praised  him  so  much 
that  he  ignored  what  impartial  critics  said  of 
him ;  so  he  made  no  effort  to  correct  his 
faults.  His  short  stories  were  collected  in  vol- 
umes, and  his  first  novel,  made  of  material 
gleaned  at  Bar  Harbor,  was  so  cynical  and 
pitiless  in  its  dissection  of  a  girl's  character 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  7 

displayed  in  a  love  affair  that  it  created  a  sen- 
sation. 

It  was  of  Bar  Harbor  that  he  was  thinking 
when  he  decided  to  remain  in  Hull;  he  had  a 
delightfully  complacent  feeling  at  the  thought 
of  possibly  repeating  his  experience  there. 
That  had  been  one  of  the  things  worth  living 
for.  But  to  Bar  Harbor  he  had  gone  deliber- 
ately, at  the  suggestion  of  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd, 
who  lived  there  and  had  urged  him  to  come. 
This  little  place,  however,  would  have  the  charm 
of  the  unexpected  ;  it  reminded  him  of  towns  in 
Europe  where  he  had  stayed  for  weeks,  simply 
because  they  pleased  him.  As  he  sauntered 
into  the  office  of  the  hotel  to  engage  a  room 
and  to  send  a  telephone  message  to  Boston  for 
his  traps,  he  smiled  at  the  thought  of  the  pros- 
pect. 


II. 

PEOPLE  who  met  Dorothea  Wayne  mar- 
velled when  they  heard  that  she  lived  in  Os- 
wego.  "  But  she's  probably  been  abroad  a 
good  deal,"  they  said,  in  justification  of  their 
judgment.  When  they  were  told  she  had  never 
been  abroad,  they  fell  back  on  New  York, 
which  serves  to  explain  so  many  mysteries. 
No,  she  had  never  lived  in  New  York.  Her 
manner  was  not  a  fashionable  boarding-school 
acquirement;  it  was  simply  the  expression  of 
herself. 

Any  one  could  see  she  was  a  fine  creature. 
She  showed  that  in  her  face,  in  her  regular 
features,  her  large,  dark  eyes  with  long  lashes, 
in  her  graceful  figure,  her  splendid  carriage. 
Aleck  French,  the  young  Oswego  illustrator, 
had  introduced  her  in  so  many  of  his  drawings 
for  the  pictorial  weeklies  that  he  was  often  ac- 
cused of  being  limited  in  types.  Perhaps  this 
was  why  she  had  urged  him  to  go  to  Paris, 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  g 

where  he  might  work  out  of  the  rut  he  had 
fallen  into,  and  incidentally  learn  to  paint.  She 
was  always  planning  for  others.  Her  friends, 
when  asked  about  her,  used  to  declare  that  this 
was  why  she  hadn't  done  more  for  herself. 
They  were  also  likely  to  make  invidious  refer- 
ence to  the  girl's  invalid  mother,  who,  they 
said,  "dragged  her  down." 

Of  course,  Dorothea  ought  to  have  married 
long  before  she  reached  her  twenty-eighth  year. 
Yes,  she  was  only  twenty-eight,  though  she 
might  be  mistaken  for  a  perfectly  preserved 
woman  of  thirty-five.  She  might  pose  as  a 
tragic  figure ;  yet  the  expression  of  her  face 
was  usually  gentle.  Her  disposition  was  gentle 
enough — that  is,  those  who  knew  her  liked  to 
assert  this  about  her.  Those  who  didn't  know 
her  were  afraid  of  her.  She  was  too  stately 
for  the  ordinary  uses  of  social  life.  One  never 
could  deal  in  badinage  with  her ;  she  would 
open  wide  her  eyes  at  the  first  jest,  and  the 
trifler  would  experience  a  spiritual  collapse.  It 
was  wonderful,  the  effect  she  could  produce  by 
opening  her  eyes. 

To  Oswego  she  was  a  blessing ;  she  pro- 
vided it  with  a  topic.  Her  father  had  been  in 
business  there  for  many  years.  When  he  died 


I0  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

Dorothea  was  twenty,  and  preparing  to  go 
abroad  with  him.  People  expected  her  to  go 
just  the  same,  and  to  take  her  mother  in  her 
father's  place ;  but  she  stayed  at  home  and  took 
lessons  in  sketching  from  Aleck  French.  Her 
mother  was  too  frail  to  travel.  Besides,  Mrs. 
Wayne  loved  Osvvego,  where  she  had  lived  her 
long  romance,  with  the  selfishness  of  people 
who  cling  to  the  memory  of  happiness ;  so  she 
bound  her  daughter  to  wearisome  associations. 

Oswego  expected  Dorothea  Wayne  to  mar- 
ry Aleck  French.  Aleck's  father  was  rich,  and. 
Aleck  had  made  a  reputation  and  an  income  by 
his  illustrations.  When  it  was  discovered  that 
he  was  going  to  Paris,  Oswego  prepared  itself 
for  the  announcement  of  the  engagement. 
Since  then  two  years  had  passed,  and  Oswego 
still  waited.  It  was  vexing.  Dorothea  never 
explained  whether  she  had  refused  him  before 
he  sailed,  or  whether  she  had  accepted  him  since 
his  success  with  his  first  Salon  picture.  As  for 
Mrs.  Wayne,  she  would  have  been  glad  to  ex- 
plain if  she  could  ;  but  her  fondness  for  explain- 
ing had  silenced  her  daughter  many  years  be- 
fore. At  times  Dorothea's  silence  in  her  moth- 
er's presence  was  positively  dramatic.  It  used 
to.  appal  the  faded  widow,  whose  chief  pleasure 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  H 

consisted  in  the  minute  discussion  of  the  affairs 
of  her  family  and  her  neighbours. 

Indeed,  for  all  her  virtues  Dorothea  was  a 
great  trial  to  her  mother.  If  she  would  only 
rebel  against  Fate,  the  widow  used  to  say  to 
her  little  circle  of  Oswego  matrons,  if  she 
would  only  speak  out  now  and  then,  she  would 
be  far  less  wearing  on  the  nerves  ;  but  there 
was  something  dreadful  in  her  passive  acquies- 
cence, in  her  tragic  serenity.  To  her  intimates 
Mrs.  Wayne  used  to  whisper  that  Dorothea  had 
treated  Aleck  French  shamefully.  She  still 
corresponded  with  him,  however ;  she  herself 
had  never  read  any  of  his  letters,  but  they  were 
frequent,  and  from  the  appearance  of  the  en- 
velope she  knew  they  were  long.  If  Dorothea 
didn't  care  for  Aleck  French,  then  she  cared 
for  no  one  else  in  the  world.  He  was  the  only 
man  she  hadn't  treated  with  an  icy  reserve. 
What  could  the  girl  be  thinking  of — throwing 
her  youth  away?  With  her  beauty  and  her 
presence  she  might  aspire  to  anything.  Mrs. 
Wayne  was  always  referring  to  her  daughter's 
"presence,"  an  inheritance  from  paternal  an- 
cestors. 

As  for  Dorothea  herself,  she  knew  of  the 
agitation  that  she  caused  her  mother,  but  she 


12  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

tried  to  regard  it  philosophically.  When  her 
father  died,  she  lost  the  companion  of  her  life. 
They  were  like  two  comrades;  they  read  the 
same  books,  thought  many  of  the  same  thoughts, 
understood  and  sympathized  with  each  other. 
For  many  years  Mrs.  Wayne  had  been  to  her 
husband  only  a  clinging  dependency  ;  but  this 
she  never  realized  ;  so  she  was  saved  from  that 
most  cruel  of  emotions,  maternal  jealousy.  He 
treated  her  with  as  much  consideration  as  a 
mother  treats  a  sick  child,  and  his  example  had 
stimulated  his  daughter  to  do  likewise. 

So  Dorothea  sacrificed  her  ambitions,  dwelt 
in  Oswego,  and  pursued  her  studies.  She  went 
deep  into  history  and  art  and  literature.  For  a 
year  after  her  father's  death  she  tried  writing  ; 
he  had  often  urged  her  to  write,  but  she  had 
held  off  from  the  attempt  through  sheer  doubt 
of  her  capacity.  At  first  she  threw  herself  into 
the  work  with  a  passionate  vehemence  ;  but  her 
essays  and  her  stories  came  persistently  back 
from  the  editors,  and  she  finally  burned  them 
all  and  closed  a  chapter  in  her  life.  It  was  a 
disappointment ;  but  she  had  too  much  good 
sense  to  brood  over  it,  and  she  went  at  her  read- 
ing and  her  sketching  harder  than  ever. 

It  was  then  that  her  intimacy  with   Aleck 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  13 

French  began.  She  had  known  him  as  a  boy, 
but  they  had  seen  little  of  each  other  during  his 
four  years  at  Cornell,  where  his  father  had  sent 
him  with  the  hope  of  curing  him  of  his  fond- 
ness for  art.  After  graduation,  however,  Aleck 
came  home  and  devoted  himself  to  drawing 
more  assiduously  than  he  had  done  before.  It 
was  his  struggle  with  his  father  and  his  hatred 
of  Oswego  that  first  interested  Dorothea  in  him. 
When,  after  two  years,  his  work  found  accept- 
ance, and  his  father  acquiesced  in  his  choice  of 
a  profession,  and  he  might  have  gone  to  New 
York,  he  preferred  to  remain  in  Oswego.  Of 
course  the  Oswego  people  knew  why  ;  he  made 
no  secret  of  his  infatuation.  They  didn't  know, 
however,  why  he  left  for  Paris  so  cheerfully. 
No  one  but  himself  and  one  other  person  knew 
that  Dorothea  Wayne  had  promised  to  tell  him 
at  the  end  of  two  years  whether  she  could  care 
for  him  enough  to  marry  him.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  win  her  by  hard  work,  and  he 
asked  nothing  more  than  the  chance  of  making 
himself  worthy  of  her.  There  was  something 
almost  touching  in  his  devotion  ;  she  felt  that, 
but  she  was  afraid  of  the  feeling ;  it  was  too  fra- 
gile a  foundation  for  a  life  union. 

Dorothea   Wayne    had   very   definite    ideas 


I4  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

about  marriage — far  more  definite  than  her  ideas 
about  life  in  general.  She  had  loved  her  father 
so  intensely  that  she .  never  dared  to  speak  of 
him,  and  she  was  always  gauging  other  men  by 
him.  There  were  qualities  in  Aleck  French 
that  she  admired  :  his  devotion  to  his  work,  his 
freedom  from  vulgarity,  his  almost  childlike 
truth,  his  rugged  simplicity.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, this  very  simplicity  disturbed  her ;  she 
would  have  liked  a  little  guile.  His  lack  of 
polish  —  his  hands  were  big,  his  shoulders 
drooped,  and  when  he  walked  he  slouched — 
seemed  so  inconsistent  with  his  genuine  feeling 
for  art  and  his  skill  in  delineating  the  finer 
phases  of  life.  Then,  too,  there  were  times  when 
fearful  silences  would  rise  up  between  them, 
when  her  mind  would  go  into  worlds  where  he 
couldn't  follow.  In  spite  of  his  training  at  col- 
lege, he  cared  little  for  books,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  history  of  art  and  of  art-theories  was 
shockingly  meagre.  She  had  hoped  that  Paris 
would  give  him  polish  ;  but  his  letters  showed 
that  he  was  still  very  American,  still  simple,  as 
he  had  always  been.  Sometimes,  however,  this 
pleased  her ;  if  she  had  found  in  him  the  change 
she  was  always  looking  for  she  would  have  been 
displeased. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  !j 

In  September  the  two  years  would  be  over. 
As  the  time  approached  Dorothea  grew  more 
and  more  nervous.  Her  mother,  too,  suffered 
an  increase  in  her  ailments,  and  the  doctor  pre- 
scribed sea  air  in  a  quiet  spot  on  the  New  Eng- 
land coast.  Dorothea  at  once  thought  of  Bos- 
ton. Her  father  had  lived  there  for  the  first 
twenty  years  of  his  life  and  had  always  loved  it. 
They  could  find  the  quiet  spot  near  the  city.  At 
any  rate,  they  might  look  for  one,  and,  if  they 
couldn't  find  what  they  wanted,  they  might  try 
the  Maine  coast.  Perhaps  the  Griffins,  Mrs. 
Wayne's  kindred,  who  lived  in  Brookline, 
could  tell  them  of  a  place.  Mrs.  Griffin  took 
them  in  for  a  season  and  then  sent  them  down 
to  Hull.  The  place  pleased  Dorothea ;  she 
would  have  time  to  think  there,  and  she  could 
be  alone.  So,  early  in  July  they  engaged  rooms 
at  the  Pemberton  for  the  rest  of  the  summer. 

Mrs.  Wayne  found  a  few  old  ladies  with 
whom  she  could  gossip  and  discuss  her  daugh- 
ter's peculiarities,  and  explain  how  marvellously 
she  resembled  her  father.  Dorothea  devoted 
herself  to  reading  and  to  long  walks  along  the 
beach  toward  Nantasket,  and  to  exploring  the 
picturesque  spots  in  the  little  town  of  Hull. 
She  often  sat  for  hours  on  the  beach,  looking 


!6  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

out  on  the  sea  toward  Boston  Light,  thinking-. 
It  seemed  hideous  to  her  that  she  should  be 
obliged  to  decide  her  future  in  so  cold-blooded 
a  way.  A  thousand  times  she  told  herself  that, 
in  spite  of  his  crudeness,  she  liked  Aleck 
French  ;  then  she  was  obliged  to  acknowledge 
that  she  could  live  without  him,  that  even  if  he 
were  taken  out  of  her  life  she  should  still  be 
interested  in  the  world.  Ah  !  that  was  the  pity 
of  it ;  things  appealed  to  her  mind  rather  than 
her  heart. 

Sometimes  she  wondered  if  she  could  really 
love  any  one.  Then  she  thought  of  her  father, 
and  realized  that  she  did  have  some  feeling ; 
but  her  love  for  him  was  as  much  the  love  that 
comes  from  congenial  companionship  as  the  nat- 
ural affection  of  child  for  parent.  There  were 
moments  when  she  felt  as  if  her  emotions  had 
gone  to  sleep,  as  if  something  ought  to  happen 
to  wake  them  up.  Whenever  she  reached  this 
conclusion  she  laughed,  and  jumped  from  her 
seat  and  walked  vigorously.  She  had  been 
walking  vigorously  the  day  that  Harrington 
Boyd  saw  her  sauntering  along  the  hotel  piazza.. 


III. 

I 

IT  was  the  second  week  of  September,  yet 
Harrington  Boyd  was  still  in  Hull.  His  New 
York  friends,  most  of  whom  had  gone  to  Lenox 
or  Stockbridge  or  Tuxedo,  were  wondering 
what  had  become  of  him.  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd 
hadn't  heard  from  him  since  his  flight  from  the 
Norths  six  weeks  before ;  but  she  intimated 
slyly  to  her  friends  that  she  knew  all  about 
him ;  he  was  producing  a  wonderful  piece  of 
work  in  his  hiding  place.  Secretly  she  was 
vexed  ;  of  course,  she  knew  he  was  having  an- 
other "experience."  He  had  kept  her  informed 
of  the  progress  of  the  Bar  Harbor  episode,  and 
afterward,  in  New  York,  she  had  called  and 
"  pumped  "  the  girl,  as  she  said  in  her  elegant 
phraseology.  Since  his  first  literary  success  she 
had  regarded  him  as  her  property  ;  she  liked 
people  to  think  that  she  was  responsible  for 
him,  that  she  had  really  made  him.  Harring- 
ton Boyd  knew  of  this  ambition,  and  it  tic- 

17 


jg  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

kled  his  vanity  ;  it  was  a  precious  tribute  to  his 
power. 

Boyd's  six  weeks  at  Hull  had  interested 
him ;  yet  the  experience  was  different  from 
what  he  had  expected.  In  the  first  place,  he 
found  it  surprisingly  difficult  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  the  beauty  who  had  bound  him  to 
the  spot.  Dorothea  Wayne  manifested  a  baf- 
fling desire  to  be  let  alone  ;  but  he  persisted  and 
he  was  rewarded,  for  she  proved  to  be  all  he 
had  hoped  of  her  and  more. 

She  seemed  to  him  a  unique  and  deliciously 
paradoxical  combination  of  qualities.  A  wom- 
an of  the  world,  she  had  the  ideals  of  a  school- 
girl ;  yet,  in  spite  of  her  romances,  he  felt  sure 
she  had  never  been  in  love.  He  called  her  a 
"  modern  Galatea,"  and  he  thought  seriously 
of  writing  a  novel  about  her  with  this  term  for 
title.  When  she  frankly  confessed  that  she  had 
never  seen  anything  of  his,  he  gave  her  his 
books  to  read,  and  the  incisiveness  of  her  com- 
ments delighted  him.  He  liked  to  think  of  her 
keen  intelligence  under  the  inspiration  of  love  ; 
he  wondered  if  the  result  would  be  an  abase- 
ment or  an  exaltation.  He  hardly  dared  con- 
fess to  himself  that  he  wished  to  see  the  queenly 
figure  at  his  feet ;  it  would  be  magnificent  to 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  ig 

unlock  the  secrets  of  that  proud  heart,  to  throw 
open  the  enchanting  realms  of  emotion  to  that 
cold  perfection. 

During  the  morning  hours  he  worked ;  they 
read  together  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  the  even- 
ing they  roamed  the  beach.  Of  course,  the 
other  boarders  in  the  house  had  them  engaged 
in  a  week,  and  Mrs.  Wayne  spent  many  happy 
hours  in  denying  the  report.  She  did  her  best 
to  conceal  from  her  daughter  her  delight  at  the 
possibility  of  an  engagement ;  she  knew  it  would 
lead  to  an  immediate  renewal  of  the  Oswego 
life,  which  for  the  moment  had  lost  charm  for 
her. 

It  may  have  been  that  Dorothea  was  too 
unsophisticated  to  be  conscious  of  the  gossip ; 
at  any  rate,  she  betrayed  no  suspicion  of  it. 
She  would  have  been  willing  to  stay  on  in  Hull 
for  another  month  if  the  cold  weather  hadn't 
driven  her  mother  into  a  bundle  of  shawls,  and 
warned  her  that  summer  was  over.  So  one 
frigid  Tuesday  they  decided  to  leave  on  the  fol- 
lowing Saturday. 

On  Thursday  the  fickle  September  weather 
changed ;  Mrs.  Wayne  emerged  from  her  shawls, 
and  Dorothea  was  almost  persuaded  that  July 
had  returned.  The  night  before  their  depart- 


2Q  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

ure,  while  her  mother  was  absorbed  in  packing 
her  belonging's,  Dorothea  walked  with  Harring- 
ton Boyd  along  the  beach  and  up  the  steep 
Telegraph  Hill  that  looked  out  on  the  harbour, 
twinkling  with  lights  from  the  opposite  shore. 
The  evening  was  warm  from  the  day's  heat,  but 
a  cool  breeze  blew  across  the  hill.  For  a  few 
moments  they  sat  in  silence  on  the  greensward  ; 
Harrington  Boyd  began  to  beat  the  grass  gently 
with  his  heavy  stick. 

"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  sit  here !  This  is  a 
fine  place.  It's  hard  to  find  the  country  and  the 
seashore  combined,  isn't  it?" 

She  nodded,  and  he  went  on  : 

"  You  get  just  a  touch  of  the  country  here, 
and  it  makes  a  contrast  with  the  sea.  When  I 
go  to  the  country  I  always  miss  the  sea,  and 
when  I  go  to  the  sea  I  grow  tired  of  that,  too. 
I'm  not  easy  to  satisfy,  I  suppose." 

"  One  always  tires  of  monotony,"  she  replied, 
looking  out  across  the  harbour. 

"  But  you  don't  find  life  monotonous,  do 
you?' 

"Oh,  no!" 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  never  knew  any  one  so  full 
of  life  as  you  are." 

She  made  no  reply. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  21 

"  Yet  you're  restful,  too.  You  seem  to  me 
like  Imogen,  in  my  first  long-  story,  you  know. 
Imogen  was  just  the  creation  of  my  imagination, 
an  ideal.  Now  I  don't  dare  trust  my  hand  at 
anything  but  realities." 

"  You  mean  that  you  study  real  people  and 
put  them  into  your  books  ?  "  she  asked,  without 
turning  her  head. 

"  Well,  not  exactly,  and  yet  that's  practically 
what  I  mean.  I  seldom  take  a  character  from 
life  and  work  it  into  a  story  without  changing  it. 
I  did  do  that,  however,  in  the  case  of  Tom  Weath- 
erby  in  Fashionable  Folly,  and  Mabel  Granger  in 
Dishonour  was  as  nearly  like  a  girl  I  met  at  Bar 
Harbor  three  summers  ago  as  I  could  make  her." 

"How  did  she  take  it?" 

"  Oh,  that  was  funny.  She  didn't  take  it  at 
all.  I  mean  she  didn't  catch  on ;  she  never  sus- 
pected she  had  sat  for  the  character.  In  fact, 
she  abused  it  to  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd.  I  had  asked 
Mrs.  Ladd  to  call  on  her  while  she  was  in  New 
York." 

"  How  flattering  !  " 

"  Yes,  wasn't  it?  But  I  remembered  the  old 
proverb  about  seeing  ourselves,  you  know." 

"  Did  you  write  the  story  while  you  were 
there — at  Bar  Harbor?" 


22  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  wrote  it  when  I  got  back  to 
New  York.  I  didn't  write  that  summer,  but  I 
took  notes,  oceans  of  notes ;  I'm  an  inveterate 
note-taker.  Some  day  I'll  show  you  my  note- 
book. I've  got  piles  of  them." 

"  And  when  the  story  was  published  you 
sent  it  to  her,  and  she  wrote  to  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  And  an  awful  raking  she  gave 
it,  too.  By  Jove,  how  she  did  go  for  it !  She 
even  called  names.  She  said  it  was  vulgar — • 
that  the  tone  was  vulgar.  Mrs.  Ladd  told  me 
all  about  it." 

"  What  did  she  say  about  Mabel  Granger? 

"In  her  letter,  do  you  mean?  She  devoted 
several  pages  to  Mabel.  It  was  very  funny.  I 
thought  the  character  would  make  her  mad, 
but  it  didn't ;  it  seemed  to  pain  her.  That  was 
about  as  good.  The  thing  for  a  novelist  to  do 
is  to  arouse  some  emotion,  it  doesn't  matter 
what.  She  said  I  hadn't  been  fair  in  my  analy- 
sis of  Mabel,  that  I  had  put  the  interpretation  of 
a  cynical  man  of  the  world  on  the  actions  and 
character  of  a  fine  womanly  nature — some  such 
phrase  as  that,  like  an  amateurish  book  review." 

"  Poor  girl !  "  she  said. 

"Poor?"  he  repeated,  with  a  laugh.  "Far 
from  it.  She  isn't  in  need  of  sympathy.  She 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  23 

can 'take  care  of  herself.  Besides,  she's  married 
now.  She's  done  just  as  my  Mabel  did.  She 
gave  up  her  silly  ideals,  and  instead  of  marry- 
ing a  poet,  or  a  painter,  or  a  Salvation  Army 
captain,  she  accepted  a  good,  sensible  business 
man;  he's  in  the  iron  business,  I  think.  She 
sent  me  cards."  i 

"  The  Mabel  in  your  book  wouldn't  have 
sent  the  cards,"  she  said  quickly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  would.  It  would  have  been 
revenge." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  him.  "  Then 
you  gave  her  reason  to  want  revenge  ?  " 

"Aren't  you  mixing  the  two  Mabels  up?" 
he  asked  with  a  little  smile. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  she  dropped  hers. 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  she  replied.  "  But  I 
thought  your  Mabel  was  taken  from  life." 

"  So  she  was,  but  'the  circumstances  were 
different.  Besides,  I  didn't  mean  to  draw  my- 
self when  I  drew  Austin  Cobb.  He  was  a 
beast," 

"  Any  man  is  who  trifles  with  a  girl's  affec- 
tions." 

"  A  girl's  affections ! "  he  said  mockingly. 
"  It's  hard  to  find  out  what  they  are.  I  some- 
times think  girls  have  substitutes  for  their  affec- 


24  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

tions — mere   shams — that    they   bring    out    for 
everyday  use." 

"  Then  you  think  Mabel  Granger  s  affections 
weren't  real  ?  " 

"  Which  Mabel,  my  Mabel  or  the  Bar  Har- 
bor Mabel?  You  see,  you've  confused  them  in 
my  mind." 

"  It  doesn't  make  any  difference,  does  it  ? 
Their  affections  were  the  same.  Their  only 
difference  was  in  their  surroundings." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  Do  you  know  you 
make  me  think  my  Mabel  must  have  been  aw- 
fully real?  It's  very  flattering." 

"  Oh,  she's  real  enough — too  real.  I've 
thought  about  her  a  great  deal.  But  you  haven't 
answered  my  question — about  Mabels  affections." 

"  Oh,  they  were  sham,  pure  sham." 

"  Ah  ! "  Then,  after  a  moment,  she  said, 
"  And  didn't  she  have  any  real  ones  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  but  she  kept  them  down.  In  my 
story  she  makes  herself  ill  over  that  miserable 
Cobb.  But  that  was  because  he  had  taken  ad- 
vantage, led  her  on,  you  know,  just  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing.  But  he  was  a  bungler.  The  Bar 
Harbor  Mabel  got  over  her  shams,  her  painted 
ideals,  poor  girl !  She's  given  her  real  affections 
to  her  iron  merchant." 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  25 

"  But  didn't  she  have  any  Cobb  ?  " 

"  She  had  plenty  of  admirers — scores — from 
the  little  college  boys  off  on  their  vacations  to 
literary  bachelors  like  myself.  She  was  a  great 
flirt." 

"  Was  she?     I  didn't  think  so." 

"  At  heart,  at  heart,  she  was  a  flirt.  She 
played  a  deep  game." 

She  made  a  motion  to  rise. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  quickly,  "  this  has 
been  the  pleasantest  and  the  most  unsatisfactory 
summer  of  my  life  ?  " 

"  The  most  unsatisfactory  ?  " 

"  The  most  incomplete.  It  has  ended  too 
abruptly — like  a  story  that  isn't  properly  devel- 
oped. I  want  another  month  of  it." 

"  Oh — for  more  observations?" 

"  Another  month  with  you,  I  mean.  I 
haven't  seen  enough  of  you.  You're  going 
away  too  soon." 

"  You  mean  that  my  departure  is  inartistic  ? 
I'm  sorry.  But  you  must  forgive  me.  You 
know  I  only  live  in  Oswego." 

"  You  could  live  anywhere,  for  that  matter. 
You  belong  to  the  world." 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  trying  to  make  amends  at 
the  last  moment  for  chaffing  me  about  my  little 


26  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

town,"  said  Dorothea,  with  a  faint  smile  that  his 
sharp  eyes  detected  in  spite  of  the  darkness. 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  love  your  little  town. 
It  must  be  a  paradise." 

"  If  you  keep  on  you'll  spoil  your  profes- 
sional reputation." 

"  You  are  chaffing  me  now.  But  we  shall 
meet — this  winter  in  New  York." 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  she  replied. 

"  What !  Why,  you  told  me'  you  were  com- 
ing, and  we've  been  talking  about  it  all  sum- 
mer." 

"  I've  changed  my  mind." 

"  Changed  your  mind  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  yet  you  tell  me  this  as  if  you  thought 
I  didn't  care." 

"  Why  should  I  think  you  did  care?"  Her 
voice  was  so  low  that,  but  for  the  distinctness  of 
her  speech,  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  hear 
the  words. 

"  Because  I  have  given  you  every  reason  to 
think  so,"  he  answered,  warmly. 

"  You  gave  Mabel  Granger  every  reason  to 
think  you  wanted  to  see  her  again." 

"  Mabel  Granger  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  understand  what  I  mean." 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  2/ 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not." 

"  Then  I'm  afraid  you  lack  some  of  those 
intuitions  you  spoke  of  a  little  while  ago." 

There  was  a  curious  little  upward  inflection 
of  her  voice  that  he  could  not  interpret. 

"  I  wish  you'd  explain  what  you  do  mean." 

"  I  mean  that  by  your  own  confession  you 
have -drawn  Mabel  Granger  from  life,  and  you 
couldn't  have  described  her  as  you  have  unless 
you  yourself  played  the  part  that  Austin  Cobb 
played." 

"  In  other  words,"  he  said  slowly,  turning  to 
her,  "you  think  that  I  am  Austin  Cobb" 

"  I  don't  say  that.  But  I  do  say  that  many 
of  your  traits  are  Austin  CobVs  traits,  and  your 
attitude  toward  women  is  exactly  like  his." 

"  Miss  Wayne,"  he  cried,  "  you " 

She  went  on  as  if  she  hadn't  heard  him  : 
"  I  know  you  think  a  woman  is  too  dull  to 
see  into  the  working  of  a  clever  man's  mind. 
But  I  saw  how  you  had  insinuated  yourself  into 
that  girl's  confidence  because  she  admired  you, 
and  how  she  told  you  her  poor  little  ideas  about 
life.  And  you  made  game  of  her  for  your  own 
glory." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  You  are  unjust  to  me,  Miss  Wayne  !  " 


28  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

She  rose,  too,  and  they  stood  facing  each 
other  on  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"  I  should  be  unjust,"  she  replied,  quietly, 
"  if  I  said  these  things  thoughtlessly.  But  you 
yourself  have  given  me  a  thousand  proofs  of 
them  ever  since  I've  known  you,  by  what  you 
have  said,  by  your  attitude  toward  me,  and  to- 
ward all  women,  for  that  matter." 

"  Oh,  you're  too  severe,"  he  said,  trying  to 
turn  the  scene  into  a  jest.  "  You  really  are." 

"  If  I  have  misjudged  you,  I " 

"  I  know  you  mean  to  be  just,  and  I  admire 
you  for  it.  You  have  never  seemed  to  me  so 
fine  as  you  are  now.  You  almost  make  me 
doubt  my  principles." 

"  Your  principles  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  principles,  though  you  appar- 
ently don't  believe  in  them.  And  I  have  feel- 
ings, too.  Oh,  I  know  what  you  think  of  me. 
You've  made  the  old  mistake  of  confusing  me 
with  the  characters  I've  created.  You  forget 
that  I  try  to  reproduce  life  as  I  see  it.  If  the 
world  isn't  good,  I'm  not  to  blame.  I  didn't 
make  it." 

"  The  world  is  good  enough.  It's  your 
point  of  view  I  object  to." 

"  My  point  of  view  ?  " 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  29 

"  Yes,  your  way  of  looking  at  things — of 
looking  at  women." 

"  I  hope  my  way  of  looking  at  one  woman 
doesn't  displease  you,  and  it  doesn't  change  in 
spite  of  her  indifference  to  me  or  in  spite  of  her 
misinterpretation  of  my  character." 

"  You  are  magnanimous,"  she  said,  with  a 
smile. 

"  No,  I'm  not.  I'm  just  human  and  sincere, 
and  I'm  going  to  prove  it.  I  didn't  intend  to 
speak — I  confess  that.  I  didn't  know  myself — 
I  didn't  know  you — till  a  moment  ago.  And 
now  all  you  say  makes  me  see  how  precious 
you  are  to  me  and  how  cruel  it  is  that  you 
should  misjudge  me.  The  thought  that  you 
may  pass  out  of  my  life  makes  it  seem  worth- 
less. I  can't  let  you  go  that  way.  I  can't  let 
you  go  without  an  understanding." 

"  I  think  I  understand  you." 

"  You  don't  understand  that  I  love  you,"  he 
cried,  vehemently,  "  or  you  wouldn't  talk  to  me 
as  you've  just  done." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  have  said  that.  But  let  us 
go  back  to  the  hotel  and  forget  all  about  it." 

"  Forget  all  about  it  ?  Is  that  the  way  you 
treat  a  man  who  offers  you  all  he  has  ?  Yet 
you  talk  of  women's  hearts." 

3 


30  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  It's  because  I  am  a  woman  that  I  want  to 
spare  you.-  But  you  mustn't  offer  me  anything. 
It's  impossible." 

"  Why  is  it  impossible  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is." 

"  That  means  you  care  for  some  one  else, 
doesn't  it  ?  " 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent.  Then  she  re- 
plied, "  Perhaps." 

He  looked  at  her  without  speaking  as  she 
stood  silhouetted  against  the  darkness. 

"  Are  you  engaged  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

She  met  his  look  frankly.     "  Yes." 

"  May  I  ask  who  it  is  ?  Is  that  a  secret, 
too  ?  " 

"  His  name  is  Alexander  French." 

"  French,  the  painter  ?  The  man  that  got  a 
medal  over  in  Paris  last  spring  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  should  like  to  congratulate  him,"  he  said 
slowly. 

"  We  really  must  go  back  to  the  hotel." 


IV. 

AFTERWARD  Dorothea  wondered  how  she 
had  reached  the  hotel  that  night.  She  remem- 
bered that  as  soon  as  her  first  sense  of  elation 
had  passed — she  was  ashamed  of  it  now — she 
became  so  embarrassed  that  she  could  hardly 
reply  to  'Harrington  Boyd's  remarks.  These 
were  few  enough  ;  his  commonplaces  seemed  to 
have  deserted  him.  As  they  stepped  on  the 
piazza,  she  saw  her  mother  conversing  busily 
with  her  group  of  matrons,  all  of  whom  cast 
glances  at  herself  and  Harrington  Boyd.  Her 
suspicions  were  confirmed  when  the  invalid  fol- 
lowed her  at  once  to  her  room. 

"  Well,  have  you  accepted  him  ?  " 

Dorothea  turned  and  glanced  at  her  mother. 
Her  vigorous  form  towered  above  the  frail  fig- 
ure ;  her  face  was  pale,  she  had  never  looked 
more  stately,  and  the  invalid  inwardly  quailed. 

"  Accepted  him  ?  What  do  you  mean, 
mother?  " 

31 


32  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Boyd.  I  could  tell  from  your 
looks  that  something  had  happened." 

"  I  have  accepted  Aleck  French,  mother," 
said  Dorothea,  turning  away  and  lifting  her 
arms  to  unpin  her  hat. 

"  Aleck  French  !  "  Mrs.  Wayne  wailed. 
The  wail  was  due  simply  to  her  disappoint- 
ment, not  to  any  objection  in  her  mind  to 
Aleck  French.  She  had  always  liked  Aleck, 
and  the  little  confidences  between  them  about 
Dorothea  had  strengthened  the  liking.  But 
Harrington  Boyd's  fame  and  social  position 
and  his  reputed  wealth  had  dazzled  her ;  he,  of 
all  the  men  she  knew,  could  provide  the  most 
suitable  niche  for  her  statuesque  daughter. 
Besides,  the  matrons  on  the  piazza  were  at 
this  moment  waiting  for  her  to  reappear  and 
announce  the  engagement ;  they  would  natu- 
rally resent  their  disappointment,  and  they 
would  be  shocked  to  hear  that  Dorothea  was 
engaged  to  some  one  else.  Of  course,  they 
knew  all  about  Aleck  French,  for  Mrs.  Wayne 
never  wearied  of  revealing  to  sympathetic  lis- 
teners the  ardour  of  his  devotion.  They  would 
think  it  strange  that  a  mother  should  know  so 
little  about  her  child's  most  vital  relations  ;  it 
would  be  a  distinct  reflection  on  herself. 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


33 


These  considerations  flashed  through  Mrs. 
Wayne's  mind  as  she  confronted  the  shapely 
outlines  of  her  daughter's  back.  In  contrast 
with  the  girl's  poise  she  seemed  particularly 
helpless.  She  wanted  to  ask  a  multitude  of 
questions,  but  the  seething  tumult  of  her 
thoughts  formulated  itself  into  one  only. 

"When  did  you  accept  him?"  she  finally 
asked,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  curiosity  and 
despair  in  her  face  and  tone. 

"  To-day,  mother ;  I  accepted  him  to-day," 
Dorothea  replied  in  the  patient  manner  of  one 
answering  the  question  of  a  child.  She  was  un- 
conscious of  this  manner  toward  her  mother ;  if 
she  had  known  of  it,  she  would  have  changed 
it.  It  was  the  insidious  expression  of  years  of 
repressed  vexation. 

Mrs.  Wayne  wanted  to  ask  about  Harring- 
ton Boyd,  but  that  tone  made  her  nervous  and 
she  forbore.  She  couldn't  resist  the  tempta- 
tion, however,  to  beat  about  the  bush.  With 
Dorothea  she  was  always  doing  this,  to  the 
added  annoyance  of  the  girl,  who  hated  dodg- 
ing. In  spite  of  their  love,  mother  and  daugh- 
ter were  a  great  trial  to  each  other. 

<(  Have  you  said  good-bye  to  Mr.  Boyd  ? " 
the  invalid  asked. 


24  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Yes,"  Dorothea  replied,  twisting  a  curl  be- 
fore the  mirror,  and  wishing  that  her  face  didn't 
look  so  flushed.  The  word  had  dropped  me- 
chanically from  her  lips,  and  she  realized  only 
after  she  spoke  that  it  was  not  true.  But  she 
did  not  feel  bound  to  recall  it ;  with  her  mother 
she  often  relaxed  her  rigid  moral  code. 

"  Some  of  the  ladies  think  he's  in  love  with 
you,"  Mrs.  Wayne  ventured,  standing  stock-still 
in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  the  pained  look 
in  her  face.  She  had  not  as  yet  accustomed 
herself  to  Aleck  French's  new  relation,  and  she 
was  groping  after  a  readjustment. 

"  I  don't  believe  that  he  could  be  in  love 
with  any  one,"  said  Dorothea  carelessly,  taking 
up  a  brush  from  the  bureau  and  deftly  touching 
her  hair  with  it. 

Mrs.  Wayne  turned  away  with  a  sigh  at  the 
realization  that  she  could  get  nothing  from  the 
girl  at  that  moment;  but  she  consoled  herself 
with  the  thought  that  she  would  resume  the 
attack  later.  At  the  door,  however,  she 
asked,  "When  did  you  accept  Aleck?"  for- 
getting that  the  question  had  already  been 
answered. 

"  To-day,  mother." 

The  invalid  walked  back  into  the  middle  of 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


35 


the  room,  and  the  look  of  pain  in  her  eyes 
deepened. 

"  To-day  ?  "  she  said  once  more. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  Dorothea  replied  quietly, 
still  trifling  with  her  hair.  "  When  he  went 
away  I  promised  to  give  him  an  answer  in  two 
years.  The  two  years  were  up  several  weeks 
ago." 

"  Ah ! "  Those  weeks  opened  a  vista  to 
Mrs.  Wayne's  romantic  mind.  Now  she  could 
interpret  the  girl's  strange  conduct  to  the 
matrons.  She  cast  one  of  her  helpless  glances 
at  her  daughter,  passed  over  her  lips  the  lace 
handkerchief  that  she  always  carried  in  her 
belt,  and  started  to  say  something.  Then  she 
changed  her  mind,  and  went  out  of  the  room, 
closing  the  door  softly  behind  her. 

Dorothea  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
remained  there  for  a  long  time.  She  reviewed 
her  conduct  of  the  evening,  and  in  the  calm  of 
her  new  mood  she  regretted  the  tone  she  had 
taken  with  Harrington  Boyd.  She  recalled  his 
remark  about  the  novelist's  arousing  some  emo- 
tion, no  matter  what  it  was.  It  was  a  poor  sat- 
isfaction for  her  to  know  that  she  had  aroused 
emotion  in  him.  She  had  turned  the  tables  on 
him  for  the  time,  but  he  would  turn  them  back 


36  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

on  her  by  converting  her  silly  little  harangue 
into  material  for  one  of  his  stories.  Even  if  she 
had  in  a  sense  avenged  Mabel  Granger,  she  was 
still  his  victim.  Then  she  saw  the  humorous 
aspect  of  the  situation,  and  she  smiled  in  spite 
of  her  misery  ;  for  the  complications  of  the  day 
made  her  feel  miserable,  though  she  had  hoped 
by  her  decisive  action  of  the  morning  to  put  an 
end  to  her  agitations. 

Then  her  thoughts  turned  to  Aleck  French, 
and  she  blamed  herself  for  having  broken  faith 
with  him.  He  had  expected  her  decision  to 
reach  him  in  Paris  by  the  ist  of  September; 
but  he  would  not  receive  it  at  the  earliest  be- 
fore the  5th  or  6th  of  October.  So  for  nearly 
five  weeks  he  would  be  obliged  to  wait  to 
hear  from  her,  for  in  trying  finally  to  make  up 
her  mind  what  to  say  she  hadn't  written  to 
him  at  all.  He  might  interpret  her  failure  to 
write  as  a  sign  that  their  relations  were  at  an 
end ;  in  love  affairs  silence  must  often  mean  dis- 
sent. However,  it  was  pleasing  to  think  of  his 
joy  when  at  last  he  should  receive  her  letter. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  her  mother 
returned  to  the  room.  Her  busy  manner  con- 
vinced Dorothea  that  she  had  in  mind  a  new 
plan.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Wayne  was  greatly  exhila- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  37 

rated  by  the  interest  and  sympathy  she  had 
aroused  in  the  matrons  at  the  hotel.  When 
they  learned  that  Dorothea  was  not  engaged  to 
Harrington  Boyd,  the  ladies,  in  delicious  bursts 
of  frankness,  all  confessed  that  they  considered 
him  a  prig.  This  unanimous  opinion  complete- 
ly restored  Aleck  to  Mrs.  Wayne's  favour,  and 
now  she  regarded  her  daughter's  escape  from 
the  novelist  as  the  interposition  of  Providence. 
Moreover,  she  had  made  arrangements  to  cor- 
respond with  three  of  the  matrons.  In  spite  of 
her  illness  she  maintained  an  extensive  corre- 
spondence— among  others,  with  people  whom 
she  had  seen  for  a  few  days  only,  but  in  whose 
personal  affairs  she  took  a  large,  an  almost 
impassioned  interest. 

"  The  expressman  will  be  here  at  a  quarter 
of  eight,  mother,"  said  Dorothea,  who  always 
attended  to  the  details  of  their  travelling,  "  and 
we  must  be  up  at  seven  to  leave  by  the  early 
boat." 

Mrs.  Wayne  hesitated  a  moment,  apparently 
because  she  had  not  courage  enough  to  plunge 
at  once  into  what  she  was  about  to  say.  Then 
she  blurted  : 

"  I've  changed  my  mind.  I  don't  want  to 
go  back  to  Oswego  to-morrow." 


38  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Dorothea  turned  and  looked  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  want  to  stay  here, 
mother  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  the  invalid  replied,  with  un- 
wonted energy.  "  Mrs.  Holbrook  has  invited 
us  to  spend  a  few  days  in  Brookline  with  her. 
She's  going  to  leave  to-morrow  morning,  too. 
I  thought " 

"  I  can't  go  to  Mrs.  Holbrook's,  mother." 

"  But  I  promised  just  now " 

"  We  hardly  know  her.  It  would  be  an  im- 
position. I've  not  exchanged  ten  words  with 
her." 

"  Well,  that's  your  own  fault,"  Mrs.  Wayne 
retorted,  bridling.  "  If  you're  going  to  be  so 
distant,  you  can't  expect " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  wish  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hoi- 
brook's,  you  can,  mother.  I  can  go  home  and 
open  the  house." 

Mrs.  Wayne's  next  remark  made  Dorothea 
see  that  her  first  speech  was  only  preliminary 
to  another. 

"  I  don't  propose  to  let  you  do  anything  of 
the  kind.  If  you  go  to  Oswego  I  shall  go,  too  ; 
but  I  don't  want  to  go  yet.  We  see  enough  of 
the  place  in  winter.  We'll  go  back  to  the 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


39 


Griffins  for  a  few  days.  They'll  be  glad  to 
have  us.  Then  I  can  see  Mrs.  Holbrook." 

"  The  Griffins  don't  know  her,"  said  Doro- 
thea significantly. 

"  Well,  I'll  introduce  them,"  Mrs.  "Wayne 
snapped. 

Dorothea  had  no  hesitancy  in  consenting  to 
the  plan.  Mrs.  Griffin  was  a  distant  cousin  of 
her  mother's,  and  the  two  women  were  fond  of 
each  other ;  besides,  she  liked  Tom  Griffin,  who 
was  in  college,  and  just  old  enough  to  be  com- 
panionable. Tom's  flippancy  and  his  assumed 
contempt  for  girls  whom  he  was  continually 
falling  in  love  with  amused  her.  The  Griffins 
were  always  prepared  for  the  descent  upon 
them  of  their  kindred,  and  Oswego  rarely  both- 
ered them ;  so  Dorothea  felt  sure  of  a  wel- 
come. She  redirected  the  trunks,  and  after 
writing  a  letter  to  the  housekeeper  at  home  not 
to  expect  them  for  a  week  or  two,  she  went  to 
bed.  There  she  thought  over  the  Brookline 
plan,  and  found  it  agreeable.  She  was  sur- 
prised that  her  mother  was  not  eager  to  repair 
to  Oswego  and  enjoy  -the  felicity  of  making  a 
personal  announcement  of  the  engagement ; 
now  and  then,  however,  the  invalid  was  almost 
startlingly  inconsistent.  Her  friendship  with 


40  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Mrs.  Holbrook,  a  stout,  well-appointed  dowager 
of  sixty,  must  have  been  unusually  violent  to 
cause  the  change  in  her  plans. 

The  next  morning  they  went  to  Brookline, 
where  the  unexpectedness  of  their  visit  won  for 
them  a  warm  welcome.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  not 
been  in  the  house  five  minutes  when  the  whole 
family  knew  that  Dorothea  was  engaged,  and 
half-stifled  her  with  kisses.  She  wondered  why 
these  tributes  of  affection  depressed  her,  and 
why  they  made  her  visit  resentment  on  Aleck 
French.  Then,  as  days  passed  and  she  heard 
nothing  from  him,  her  resentment  increased. 
His  last  letter  had  reached  her  late  in  August ; 
he  had  probably  not  written  during  September 
while  waiting  for  her  decision.  He  might  have 
shown  a  little  ardour.  Then  she  had  moments 
when  she  blamed  herself  for  blaming  him.  As 
if  he  had  not  shown  ardour  enough  already  ! 
In  her  most  generous  moods  she  felt  humiliated 
at  the  thought  of  her  own  unworthiness  of  such 
homage  as  he  paid  her.  His  patience,  which  at 
first  had  seemed  to  her  commonplace,  then  took 
on  an  almost  sublime  aspect. 

Mrs.  Wayne  had  planned  to  spend  just  a 
week  at  the  Griffins',  but  she  was  beguiled  into 
prolonging  it  into  two.  At^  the  end  of  the  first 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  41 

week  she  tired  of  Mrs.  Holbrook,  who  dis- 
played too  great  persistence  in  calling ;  perhaps 
she  had  been  prejudiced  against  her  by  the 
revelation  Mrs.  Griffin  made  of  her  social  status 
in  the  wealthiest  and  the  most  beautiful  of  Bos- 
ton's suburbs.  At  any  rate,  the  friendship  lan- 
guished, as  so  many  friendships  made  at  water- 
ing places  do.  Before  the  second  week  had 
passed  Mrs.  Wayne  lapsed  into  one  of  her 
periods  of  illness,  took  to  her  bed,  and  remained 
there  for  a  month.  This  was  a  trial  to  Doro- 
thea, because  she  feared  that  it  was  a  trial  to 
the  Griffins,  which  it  wasn't ;  for  Mrs.  Griffin 
was  one  of  those  women  who  love  ministering 
to  the  sick.  Dorothea,  however,  had  a  greater 
trial  before  her. ;  it  came  in  the  shape  of  a  letter 
from  Aleck  French : 

"  MY  DEAR  DOROTHEA  :  Your  letter  made 
me  suffer  more  than  anything  that  has  ever  hap- 
pened to  me.  It  made  me  realize  what  a  fool  I 
have  been,  and  how  terribly  I  am  being  pun- 
ished. You  are  too  good  for  me,  anyway,  and 
now  I  can  see  how  presumptuous  it  was  for  me 
to  think  that  you  could  ever  be  more  than  a 
friend  to  me.  It  nearly  kills  me  to  tell  you 
what  I  have  to  tell,  and  the  thought  that  I  am 


42  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

causing  you  unhappiness  makes  me  feel  that  I 
am  the  greatest  villain  in  the  world.  But  I'll 
try  to  come  out  with  it  like  a  man,  though  I 
know  you  will  despise  me  as  soon  as  you  read 
this.  I  can't  keep  my  engagement  with  you, 
because  I  am  married  already.  I  married 
Olympe  Deschamps  just  ten  days  before  your 
letter  reached  me.  For  weeks  I  waited  for  a 
letter  from  you,  and  at  last  I  thought  it  would 
never  come ;  that  you  probably  expected  me  to 
take  your  silence  for  a  refusal,  because  you 
were  too  generous  to  give  me  pain.  I  got  into 
a  kind  of  frenzy,  and  I  lost  all  hope  of  hearing 
from  you,  and  one  day  I  married  her.  I  know 
I  deserve  your  contempt,  but  I  am  really  not 
worth  even  that.  Good-bye.  You  will  marry 
some  one  who  is  worthy  of  you,  and  that  you 
may  be  happy  will  always  be  the  wish  of  your 
faithful  friend,  ALEXANDER  FRENCH." 

She  was  glad  she  had  gone  to  her  own  room 
to  read  the  letter.  She  hated  to  show  feeling 
under  any  circumstances,  especially  in  the  pres. 
ence  of  others.  Her  first  thought  was  one  of 
utter  humiliation.  To  have  been  jilted  by  a 
man  who  had  professed  such  affection  for  her 
that,  in  spite  of  her  doubts,  she  had  been  per- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  43 

suaded  that  she  cared  for  him  !  Oh,  the  shame 
of  it — the  shame!  She  bowed  her  head  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  trying  to 
hide  from  herself  the  hot  flushes  that  sent  the 
blood  surging  in  her  head.  For  a  few  moments 
she  did  not  move  or  think ;  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  suffering  from  a  paralysis.  Then  she  tried 
to  shake  off  the  feeling,  and  rose  from  the  chair 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  in  the  little 
apartment.  Her  mortification  speedily  turned 
to  indignation,  and  she  felt  a  resentment 
against  Aleck  French  that  she  had  never  sup- 
posed herself  capable  of  feeling  toward  any  one. 
Thoughts,  suspicions,  that  in  another  mood 
would  have  shamed  her,  shot  through  her 
mind.  He  had  been  guilty  of  the  most  con- 
temptible double-dealing  with  her,  perhaps 
from  the  very  beginning.  While  he  was  writ- 
ing those  letters  from  Paris,  full  of  love  and  hu- 
mility, he  was  devoting  himself  to  that  other 
woman  !  Oh,  the  coward,  the  traitor ! 

It  was  not  until  she  had  considered  the  matter 
in  all  its  bearings  that  she  realized  how  utterly 
beneath  herself  she  had  always  considered  him. 
Now  she  saw  that  her  interest  in  him  had  been 
largely  one  of  pity,  and  sprang  from  a  desire  to 
help  an  inferior;  this  was  why  she  had  mis- 


44  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

trusted  herself,  why  she  had  held  off  so  long 
from  the  formal  engagement.  She  was  being 
punished.  Perhaps  she  deserved  it;  perhaps 
such  pride  as  hers  needed  the  lesson.  But  it 
was  very  hard  that  the  lesson  should  come  from 
him.  In  the  illumination  which  the  shock  gave 
her  she  saw  what  a  mistake  she  had  made,  and 
she  tried  to  escape  from  the  consciousness  of 
her  own  abasement  by  censuring  herself.  Then 
it  flashed  upon  her  that  if  she  had  not  been 
bound  to  Aleck  French  until  she  wrote  the  let- 
ter accepting  him,  he  had  not  been  bound  to  her. 
But  this  technical  escape  from  blame  only  made 
her  visit  her  resentment  on  him  again.  She 
dreaded  giving  way  to  an  explosion  of  tears, 
yet  when  she  thought  of  the  possibility  this 
was  just  what  she  did  do,  and  for  half  an  hour 
she  lay  on  the  bed,  sobbing  convulsively. 


V. 

THE  tears  did  her  good,  and  when  the  at- 
tack subsided,  Dorothea  felt  equal  to  meeting 
her  mother.  She  would  tell  her  at  once  that 
the  engagement  was  broken,  and  she  would  say 
nothing  of  Aleck's  marriage.  About  the  second 
point  she  hesitated  before  making  her  decision  ; 
concealment  involved  deceit,  but  she  conceded 
the  deceit  to  her  pride ;  to  that  she  believed  she 
owed  some  consideration.  When  she  looked  at 
herself  in  the  glass,  however,  she  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  red  and  swollen.  Even  when  she 
had  deluged  them  with  hot  water,  they  betrayed 
her.  So  she  decided  to  steal  out  and  to  take  a 
long  walk  ;  by  the  time  she  returned  she  would 
look  like  herself  again  and  be  able  to  face  her 
mother's  scrutiny. 

She  walked  for  miles,  far  out  into  the  coun- 
try, hardly  daring  to  allow  herself  to  think,  and 
hoping  to  bring  on  a  healthy  fatigue  that  would 
make  her  sleep  that  night.  When  she  returned 
4  « 


46  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

it  was  nearly  dinner  time,  and  as  she  hurried 
up  the  stairs  to  her  mother's  room  she  was  in  a 
tumult  of  emotions;  but  she  hid  all  outward  ex- 
pression of  her  feelings  beneath  her  habitual 
reserve  of  manner. 

Mrs.  Wayne  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  reading  a 
novel.  On  seeing  Dorothea  enter  the  room,  she 
inserted  her  long,  thin  forefinger  between  the 
leaves  and  looked  up  with  expectation  in  her 
drawn  features.  Her  complexion,  from  confine- 
ment in  the  room,  was  even  more  sallow  than 
usual.  She  divined  her  daughter's  moods  with 
wonderful  keenness,  and  now,  with  a  sense  of 
mingled  exultation  and  dread,  she  prepared  her- 
self for  something  dramatic. 

Dorothea  took  a  seat  by  the  bedside,  and 
looked  into  her  mother's  face. 

"  I've  something  to  tell  you,"  she  said. 

The  invalid's  fingers  twitched. 

"  My  engagement  with  Aleck  is  broken." 

"Broken?"  Mrs.  Wayne  repeated,  with  an 
incredulous  gasp. 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  mean  you've  had  a  quarrel?" 

"  No,  we  haven't  had  a  quarrel." 

"  What's  the  matter,  then  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now,  mother,"  Dorothea 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


47 


replied,  with  the  calmness  that  always  threw 
her  parent  into  despair.  "  Some  time,  perhaps, 
I  will  tell  you." 

"  Is  it  that  Mr.  Boyd  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wayne's  faded  eyes  shone  with  acute- 
ness.  Her  mind  ran  swiftly  over  the  weeks  at 
Hull,  examining  incident  and  incident  to  sup- 
port her  theory  that  Dorothea  had  transferred 
her  affections  from  Aleck  French  to  Harrington 
Boyd.  In  a  flash  she  decided  that  Dorothea 
had  accepted  Aleck  because  she  thought  Har- 
rington Boyd  had  been  trifling  with  her ;  that 
last  night  at  Hull,  Boyd  had  proposed,  and  she 
had  rejected  him ;  then  she  had  broken  with 
Aleck,  and,  now  that  she  was  free,  Harrington 
Boyd  would  come  back.  It  was  a  perfectly 
logical  sequence  of  events,  and  Mrs.  Wayne  felt 
a  sudden  desire  to  interpret  it  to  Annetta 
Griffin. 

For  the  present,  however,  she  chose  to  dis- 
semble. Her  own  lack  of  frankness  made  her 
suspicious  of  her  daughter,  and  when  Dorothea 
said,  "  No,  mother,  it  is  not  Mr.  Boyd,"  she 
attributed  the  speech  simply  to  the  girl's  natural 
modesty. 

For  a  moment  they  sat  together  without 
speaking.  Then,  "  Don't  you  think  you  can 


48  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

make  it  up  ?  "  Mrs.  Wayne  asked,  for  want  of 
something  better  to  say. 

Dorothea  shook  her  head. 

"  We  shall  never  make  it  up.  That  is  quite 
impossible." 

This  speech  convinced  the  invalid  that  she 
was  on  the  right  scent;  but  she  made  no  be- 
trayal of  her  suspicions.  She  only  said  : 

"  It'll  make  a  lot  of  talk  in  Oswego.  It's 
been  in  the  papers,  you  know." 

Dorothea  knew  very  well  that  it  had  been 
in  the  papers,  for  several  marked  copies  of 
the  notices  had  been  sent  to  her.  She  waited 
for  her  mother  to  go  on,  and,  after  thinking 
for  a  space,  the  invalid  cried,  with  more  de- 
termination than  she  had  shown  since  her  ill- 
ness: 

"  We  can't  go  back  there  now.  It  would  be 
too  disagreeable  for  you." 

"  But  we  can't  stay  here,"  Dorothea  said  with 
equal  determination. 

"  We  might  do  as  we  thought  of  doing  early 
in  the  summer — go  to  New  York  for  a  few 
weeks.  We  could  get  rooms  in  that  place  Miss 
Sloggett  recommended  to  us." 

"  Yes,"  Dorothea  agreed,  dubiously,  "  we 
might  do  that."  Then  she  added  more  decided- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  49 

ly,  "  It's  the  best  thing  we  can  do  under  the 
circumstances." 

The  invalid  experienced  a  faint  exultation  at 
this  further  confirmation  of  her  intuitions.  She 
longed  for  a  talk  with  Annetta  Griffin,  and  when 
Dorothea  finally  left  the  room,  she  sent  the 
maid  for  her  friend. 

Mrs.  Griffin  wept  on  hearing  the  news  that 
was  exclaimed  to  her  as  soon  as  she  had  closed 
the  door  behind  her.  She  couldn't  under- 
stand how  Mrs.  Wayne  was  able  to  take  it 
so  calmly.  The  explanation  that  was  forth- 
with poured  into  her  ears  further  mystified 
her.  She  had  her  own  views  about  Dorothea's 
character. 

"  There's  something  behind  it,  my  dear,"  she 
said  impressively,  at  the  end  of  the  invalid's 
recital.  "Just  wait  and  see." 

She  had  too  much  kindness  and  tact,  how- 
ever, to  pry  into  Dorothea's  affairs,  and  she  said 
very  little  to  the  girl  about  the  matter. 

Mrs.  Wayne  improved  rapidly,  and  in  a  fort- 
night she  was  able  to  leave  for  New  York. 
There  Derothea  felt  a  delicious  sense  of  free- 
dom. She  entered  the  Art  Students'  League 
and  devoted  herself  assiduously  to  drawing. 
Most  of  the  students  were  younger  than  her- 


tj0  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

self,  but  this  did  not  trouble  her;  she  had  always 
felt  much  older  than  she  really  was,  and  she  had 
become  resigned  to  her  age.  Her  work  con- 
stantly reminded  her  of  Aleck  French,  whom 
she  tried  not  to  think  about ;  but  she  could  not 
help  wondering  about  his  wife,  what  kind  of 
woman  she  was  and  what  kind  of  a  life  he  led 
with  her.  She  wondered,  too,  why  she  did  not 
feel  more  bitterly  toward  him.  After  the  con- 
vulsion that  his  letter  had  caused  her,  her  re- 
sentment had  gradually  subsided,  and  now  she 
suffered  chiefly  in  the  humiliation  of  her 
pride. 

She  tried  heroically  to  hope  that  he  was 
happy,  and  she  even  succeeded  in  convincing 
herself  that  if  they  were  to  meet  again  they 
would  go  on  with  their  friendship.  Sometimes 
this  idea  seemed  so  droll  to  her  that  she  smiled 
at  it.  However,  the  standards  of  the  world 
were  not  her  standards,  and  if  at  any  time  she 
could  do  Aleck  a  service  she  resolved  to  do  it. 
Indeed,  the  mere  thought  of  this  magnanimity 
on  her  own  part  greatly  consoled  her.  It  seemed 
to  glorify  her  humiliation. 

Mrs.  Wayne  found  several  spirits  in  the 
boarding-house  who  were  eager  to  analyze  her 
daughter  with  her.  They  coincided  with  her 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  51 

views  with  regard  to  the  girl's  matrimonial 
prospects,  and  they  were  prepared  any  fine 
afternoon  to  see  Harrington  Boyd  mount  their 
brownstone  steps.  Indeed,  the  Misses  Sophia 
and  Millicent  Marbury,  whose  youth  and  ma- 
turity had  been  largely  devoted  to  readjusting 
the  affairs  of  their  acquaintances,  spent  many 
hours  in  their  front  room  watching  for  him. 
They  felt  sure  they  should  recognise  him  from 
Mrs.  Wayne's  vivid  description. 

It  was  Miss  Millicent  Marbury  who  discov- 
ered the  item  in  'the  New  York  Chronicle  an- 
nouncing the  marriage  in  Paris  of  Alexander 
French,  the  American  artist,  to  Mile.  Deschamps, 
his  model.  She  ran  breathless  to  Mrs.  Wayne's 
room,  Miss  Sophia  trailing  agitatedly  behind 
her.  Fortunately,  Dorothea  was  at  the  League  ; 
when  she  returned  to  the  boarding-house,  and 
her  mother  confronted  her  with  the  item,  she 
said  that  one  of  the  League  girls  had  already 
shown  it  to  her.  She  was  in  the  calm  mood 
that  her  mother  dreaded  ;  so  she  escaped  ques- 
tioning. 

In  the  conference  in  which  Mrs.  Wayne  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  engage  with  the  Misses  Mar- 
bury,  these  ladies  expressed  the  unanimous 
opinion  that  the  marriage  was  due  directly  to 


52  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Dorothea's  refusal  of  Aleck.  Miss  Sophia  cited 
from  her  own  experience  several  cases  of  esti- 
mable young  men  who  had  been  caught  on  the 
rebound. 

For  several  days  the  sisters  led  a  life  of 
fluttering  excitement  in  studying  Dorothea's 
emotions  as  depicted  in  her  face  ;  they  were 
prepared  to  find  signs  of  regret,  possibly 
of  maidenly  despair  there ;  but  even  their 
rich  imaginations  were  unable  to  discov- 
er any  marked  change  in  the  girl's  expres- 
sion. She  merely  seemed  more  indifferent 
than  usual. 

About  a  week  after  the  announcement  of 
Aleck  French's  marriage  appeared,  "  a  lady  with 
a  manner"  called  at  the  boarding-house  and 
asked  for  Miss  Wayne ;  at  any  rate,  this  was 
the  description  given  by  the  Misses  Marbury, 
who  saw  her  in  the  drawing  room.  She  was 
tall  and  thin,  and  her  rigid  figure  was  encased 
in  a  suit  of  brown ;  her  hat  and  her  gloves  were 
brown,  and,  though  it  was  early  November, 
she  wore  tan  shoes.  The  Misses  Marbury 
whispered  to  their  intimates  that  in  spite  of  her 
"  manner  "  they  thought  she  looked  just  a  little — 
well,  "  showy  " ;  she  probably  belonged  to  the 
"fast"  set  of  New  York  society.  When  she 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


53 


heard  that  Miss  Wayne  was  not  at  home  she 
asked  for  Miss  Wayne's  mother.  The  invalid 
slipped  down  the  stairs  in  her  flowing  lace- 
trimmed  gown  and  was  closeted  with  her  caller 
for  an  hour;  then  for  another  hour  she  was 
closeted  with  the  Misses  Marbury. 

Just  what  was  said  during  these  conferences 
Dorothea  never  learned,  though  they  both  inti- 
mately concerned  her  welfare.  Her  mother  told 
her  simply  that  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd  had  called, 
that  she  was  the  most  fascinating  woman  she 
had  ever  seen  in  her  life,  and  she  was  so  anxious 
to  meet  Dorothea  that  the  call  would  be  re- 
peated in  a  few  days.  Mrs.  Wayne  was  unable 
to  interpret  her  daughter's  stony  displeasure  on 
receiving  this  information,  and  the  different  ex- 
planations given  by  the  Misses  Marbury  failed 
to  satisfy  her ;  moreover,  when  Mrs.  Ladd  called 
a  second  time  she  could  not  understand  why 
Dorothea  refused  to  see  her.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, Mrs.  Wayne  was  afraid  to  go  down 
herself,  and  "  the  lady  with  a  manner "  was 
obliged  to  leave  cards  and  depart  without  see- 
ing any  one  save  Miss  Millicent  Marbury,  who 
happened  to  pass  through  the  hall  as  she  made 
her  exit.  She  was  herself  seen,  however,  from 
an  upper  window  by  two  pairs  of  eyes.  Dor- 


54 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


othea  would  hardly  have  been  human  if  she 
had  resisted  her  mother's  invitation  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  social  leader ;  the  vision  was 
brief,  but  enough  to  deepen  the  prejudice  she 
had  already  formed  from  report. 


VI. 

THE  Misses  Marbury,  who  were  always  ris- 
ing- on  the  wings  of  prophecy,  took  a  splendid 
flight  during  the  two  weeks  that  followed  Mrs. 
Follett  Ladd's  call.  Among  other  things  they 
predicted  the  return  of  Harrington  Boyd  ;  Mrs. 
Ladd,  they  argued,  on  hearing  of  Mr.  French's 
marriage,  had  come  to  see  Dorothea  in  his  be- 
half, and,  as  her  mission  had  failed,  he  would 
come  himself ;  a  man  of  his  sort  always  had 
a  woman  confidant.  Though  the  Misses  Mar- 
bury  apparently  belonged  to  no  clearly  defined 
social  circle,  they  betrayed  an  intricate  compre- 
hension of  the  motives  and  habits  of  the  old 
Knickerbocker  and  other  sets  of  New  York  ; 
this  knowledge,  they  gave  their  friends  to  un- 
derstand, was  chiefly  traditional,  gleaned  from 
an  aunt  who  had  been  a  belle  many  years  be- 
fore. 

When,  after  several  weeks,  Harrington  Boyd 
did  not  appear,  they  experienced  a  bitter  disap- 


55 


56  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

pointment,  and  this  they  visited  on  Dorothea. 
In  the  privacy  of  their  apartments  they  agreed 
that  Dorothea  was  heartless,  and  that  to  have 
such  a  girl  for  a  daughter  was  enough  to  break 
her  mother  down.  Their  treatment  of  Doro- 
thea, however,  continued  to  be,  as  it  had  always 
been,  deprecatingly  admiring ;  they  paid  her 
the  playful  homage  that  older  women  with  no 
aspirations  of  their  own  often  pay  to  girls  with 
beauty.  They  really  were  afraid  of  her,  but 
this  they  would  not  acknowledge  even  to  each 
other,  though  with  each  other  they  were  singu- 
larly gentle  and  truthful.  Miss  Millicent  was 
five  years  younger  than  her  sister ;  so  Miss  So- 
phia, who  had  brought  her  up  since  her  tenth 
year,  looked  upon  her  as  girlish,  and  was  fond 
of  excusing  a  certain  giggling  lightness  in  her 
on  the.plea  of  youth. 

Dorothea  found  her  work  at  the  League 
more  and  more  absorbing.  Her  teachers  en- 
couraged her,  and  one  of  them,  Edgar  Went- 
worth,  became  so  interested  in  her  that  early 
in  March  he  invited  her  to  come  and  paint  in 
his  studio  in  the  afternoons  under  his  supervi- 
sion. When  she  went  there  she  found  a  dozen 
young  women,  working  at  their  easels,  among 
them  three  from  the  League  whom  she  knew. 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


57 


"  Let  me  see,"  the  artist  said.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  want  you  to  go  into  this  class.  For  the 
present,  anyway,  I'll  put  you  with  Miss  Flagler. 
Then  I  can  watch  your  work  more  carefully. 
She's  just  going  to  begin  on  a  new  model,  a 
middle-aged  woman,  and  that  will  be  good 
practice  for  you.  You  see,  we're  very  Oriental 
here  just  at  present — happened  to  have  the  cos- 
tumes, you  know." 

She  followed  him  through  one  of  the  smaller 
rooms,  where  a  little,  fair-complexioned  lady  was 
working  on  a  portrait  of  a  very  wrinkled  old 
woman,  to  another,  where  they  found  a  young 
girl  with  jet-black  hair,  dark,  liquid  eyes,  and 
full,  red  lips,  sitting  before  a  child  of  twelve  and 
painting  assiduously.  Over  her  gown  she  wore 
a  blue  calico  apron,  and  the  thumb  of  her  left 
hand  in  which  she  held  her  palette  was  stained 
with  red  and  blue  paint.  As  they  entered,  she 
held  her  brush  in  the  air  and  looked  at  Doro- 
thea with  a  good-humoured  smile. 

"  Hasn't  Miss  Bogetta  come  in  yet,  Janet?" 
the  artist  asked. 

"  No,"  the  girl  replied  lazily.  "  She's  always 
late,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  must  speak  to  her  about  that,"  he 
said,  absently. — "  Oh,  this  is  Miss  Flagler,  Miss 


58  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Wayne,  my  wife's  niece.  I'll  leave  you  two 
people  to  get  acquainted. — I  suppose  you'll 
go  on  with  this  until  Miss  Bogetta  comes, 
won't  you  ? "  he  asked,  glancing  at  Miss 
Flagler. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  the  girl  replied,  with  a 
yawn  which  she  hid  behind  her  hand.  Then 
pointing  to  a  chair  beside  her,-  she  said  to  Doro- 
thea :  "  Sit  here,  Miss  Wayne,  and  see  just  how 
bad  an  artist  I  am." 

"  Have  you  studied  long  ?  "  Dorothea  asked, 
to  keep  up  the  conversation.  Miss  Flagler  had 
a  drooping  manner ;  she  seemed  to  be  about  to 
collapse  at  any  moment. 

"  Six  years,"  she  replied,  "  ever  since  I 
was  seventeen.  Two  years  I  studied  in  Paris. 
My  father  lived  there.  We  took  an  apart- 
ment. New  York  is  such  a  come-down  after 
Paris." 

"  I  suppose  it  is." 

"  Such  nice  artists  there  !  I  used  to  know 
some  of  the  Americans ;  it's  awfully  hard  to  get 
acquainted  with  the  French  ones.  I  just  adore 
the  Quarter." 

"Where  did  you  study  there?" 

"  At  Julian's,  principally.  Then  I  had  some 
private  lessons  from  Alexander  French.  That 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  59 

was  before  he  got  his  medal ;  he  was  kind  of 
hard  up  then." 

So  prolonged  a  silence  followed  this  speech 
that  Dorothea  feared  Miss  Flagler  would  lift 
her  eyes  and  read  confusion  in  her  face.  She 
wanted  to  ask  questions  about  Aleck  French, 
but  she  did  not  dare.  Miss  Flagler  presently 
relieved  the  tension  by  saying : 

"  Know  French's  work  ?  I  think  it's  lovely, 
don't  you?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  like  it  very  much." 

"  He's  such  a  dear !  I  used  to  see  a  lot  of 
him  in  Paris  last  year.  I  was  so  glad  when  he 
got  the  medal  at  the  Salon  !  Funny  about  his 
marriage,  wasn't  it?  I  suppose  you  heard 
about  that  ?  They  say  he  was  in  love  with  an 
American  girl  and  she  jilted  him,  and  then  he 
got  married  to  a  horrid  French  creature  that 
used  to  pose  to  him." 

"Have  you  ever  seen  her?"  Dorothea  asked, 
with  a  fine  affectation  of  indifference. 

"  No ;  that  was  after  I  left  Paris." 

A  few  minutes  later  Miss  Bogetta,  a  pretty 
young  woman  with  a  fresh  complexion  and 
dark  eyes,  appeared,  and  took  the  place  of  Miss 
Flagler's  model.  Dorothea  began  work  at 
once,  and  during  the  sitting  Miss  Flagler  had 


60  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

very  little  to  say.  When  it  was  over  she  ex- 
amined Dorothea's  work  and  burst  into  enrap- 
tured praise. 

"  It's  really  wonderful !  How  in  the  world 
did  you  get  the  character  of  the  head  so  well  ? 
It's  so  spirited,  too,  and  the  composition  is 
great.  Where  did  you  study?" 

"  I've  studied  very  little,"  Dorothea  replied. 

"Here  in  New  York?  You  haven't  been 
abroad,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I've  only  studied  at  home." 

"Where's  that?" 

"  In  Oswego." 

"  Oswego  ?  Why,  that's  where  Mr.  French 
comes  from  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  studied  with  him,"  Dorothea  said 
quietly. 

"  Then  that  explains  it ! "  the  girl  cried,  as  if 
she  had  just  had  a  revelation.  "  I  knew  I  had 
seen  your  face  before,  but  I  couldn't  make  out 
where.  I've  been  racking  my  brains  ever  since 
you  came  in.  Why,  I've  seen  your  portrait  dozens 
of  times  in  Mr.  French's  studio.  Then  he  has  a 
lot  of  sketches  of  you.  Well,  isn't  it  strange  ?  " 

Dorothea  turned  to  put  on  her  wraps ;  she 
thought  she  could  still  feel  Miss  Flagler's  eyes 
on  her.  Of  course,  she  knew  what  the  girl  was 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  6l 

thinking  of ;  but  if  Miss  Flagler  had  any  tempta- 
tion to  apologize  for  her  remarks  with  regard  to 
French's  matrimonial  experiences  she  resisted 
it.  Dorothea  felt  ill  at  ease  till  she  had  left  the 
studio  and  found  herself  in  the  bracing  air 
again.  Then  she  began  to  worry  about  the 
revelation  she  had  made  of  her  identity ;  Miss 
Flagler  would  probably  tell  all  of  Edgar  Went- 
worth's  pupils  of  her  relations  with  Aleck.  For 
a  moment  she  thought  of  giving  up  her  work  at 
the  studio,  but  she  quickly  decided  that  this 
would  be  foolish ;  she  would  simply  ignore  the 
matter.  It  was  not  likely  that  any  of  the  girls 
would  speak  to  her  about  it  without  encourage- 
ment ;  besides,  Miss  Flagler  might  be  discreet 
enough  to  say  nothing  of  her  discovery. 

For  several  days  Miss  Flagler  did  not  men- 
tion French's  name  to  Dorothea  again.  Then 
she  apparently  found  it  impossible  to  discuss 
their  work  without  referring  to  French's  meth- 
ods, which  Dorothea  had  unconsciously  made 
her  own.  This  led  her  to  speak  of  the  pictures 
he  had  exhibited  in  Paris  and  of  his  success 
there.  It  was  a  pity,  she  thought,  that  he  had 
remained  so  conservative  and  had  continued  to 
send  his  things  to  the  old  Salon — the  work  in 
the  Champs  de  Mars  was  so  much  better  !  How- 


62  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

ever,  everybody  in  Paris  acknowledged  his 
talent. 

At  first  Dorothea  had  very  little  to  say  in 
reply  to  these  remarks,  but  in  spite  of  herself 
she  was  led  on  to  talk  about  French,  and  in  a 
short  time  Miss  Flagler  was  giving  a  detailed 
account  of  the  woman  he  had  married  and  of 
the  wretched  life  he  was  supposed  to  be  lead- 
ing with  her.  She  thought  the  pity  these  reve- 
lations caused  her  was  a  proof  that  she  had 
ceased  to  care  for  him  except  as  a  friend. 

Dorothea's  work  improved  so  much  that 
Edgar  Wentworth  grew  enthusiastic  in  praise 
of  it.  Miss  Flagler,  too,  kept  prophesying  a 
great  career  for  her  "  if  she'd  only  keep  at  it." 
When  the  two  portraits  of  the  Italian  girl  were 
finished,  Wentworth  persuaded  Dorothea  to 
send  hers  to  the  spring  exhibition  of  the 
"  American  Artists,"  where  it  attracted  favour- 
able comment.  Miss  Flagler  asked  her  why 
she  didn't  go  abroad  and  study  in  Paris  and  get 
the  benefit  of  the  "  art  atmosphere  "  there.  She 
loved  to  talk  about  the  "  art  atmosphere." 

Dorothea  used  to  laugh  at  the  praises  she  re- 
ceived, though  she  was  secretly  pleased.  They 
surprised  her,  too,  for  Aleck  French  had  never 
encouraged  her  to  believe  that  she  had  much 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  63 

talent  for  painting.  During  the  lessons  he  gave 
her,  however,  he  might  have  been  absorbed  by 
other  considerations.  Besides,  Dorothea  knew 
that  much  of  her  skill  in  technique  had  come 
from  his  instruction.  He  had  never  been  car- 
ried away  by  the  eccentricities  of  the  new 
schools,  but  had  taught  her  to  work  soberly  and 
earnestly  on  conservative  lines. 

One  afternoon  in  spring  Dorothea  remained 
late  at  the  studio  to  finish  an  interior  that  she 
had  been  painting  for  several  weeks.  Miss 
Flagler,  who  had  been  working  with  a  model 
in  the  next  room,  came  in,  and,  finding  her 
alone,  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  about  Mr. 
French  ?  "  she  said. 

Dorothea  did  not  dare  to  look  up  from  the 
canvas. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  trying  to  assume  a  tone 
of  indifference.  She  had  a  premonition  that 
something  startling  was  coming.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  He's  left  his  wife." 

"  Left  her !  "  Dorothea  echoed  blankly. 

"  Yes ;  so  they  say.  I  had  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Swayne  to-day — Lena  Swayne,  you  know, 
who  paints  dogs.  She  knows  Mr.  French  very 


64  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

well.  She  says  he's  left  the  Latin  Quarter  and 
taken  a  house  out  at  Versailles,  and  no  one 
knows  where  his  wife  is." 

Dorothea  thought  of  simple,  generous  Aleck 
French  driven  to  desperation  by  a  woman 
whom  he  ought  never  to  have  known,  with 
whom  he  could  have  no  sympathy.  The  mis- 
erable story  seemed  so  out  of  keeping  with  him. 
He  was  like  a  miscast  actor  ;  the  role  didn't  fit 
him.  Miss  Flagler  hardly  knew  what  comment 
she  ought  to  make. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  for  him  !  "  said  Dorothea. 

The  words  were  commonplace  enough,  but 
they  gave  Miss  Flagler  a  clew. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  him,  too,"  she  cried.  "  But  I 
hope  he's  got  rid  of  her.  Perhaps  she's  gone 
off  and  drowned  herself.  They  often  do — those 
wild  Frenchwomen — in  the  Seine." 

Dorothea  thought  of  all  the  horrible  stories 
she  had  heard  of  people  who  had  sought  relief 
from  trouble  in  the  Seine,  and  the  thought 
made  her  feel  more  wretched.  Why  had  Aleck 
French  ever  gone  to  Paris  ?  Why  had  she  sent 
him  there?  He  would  never  have  gone  if  she 
hadn't  sent  him.  In  Oswego  he  might  at  least 
have  lived  respectably  and  kept  himself  fine  and 
true  as  he  had  always  been. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  65 

It  was  evident  from  her  next  remark,  how- 
ever, that  Miss  Flagler  thought  the  occasion 
didn't  call  for  regret. 

"  If  she's  gone  and  drowned  herself,"  she 
said,  "  why,  then  Mr.  French  is  free.  I  only 
hope  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  him." 

"  Free ! " 

Dorothea  hadn't  thought  of  that.  Her  heart 
stopped  beating  for  a  moment;  then  it  jumped. 
Afterward  she  wondered  why  the  possibility  ol 
his  being  free  agitated  her  so.  Surely  every- 
thing was  over  between  them.  Now  he  could 
never  hope, — but  she  would  not  entertain  even 
the  possibility ! 

That  afternoon  as  soon  as  she  reached  home 
she  went  into  her  mother's  room.  The  invalid 
was  swathed  in  worsted  shawls  on  the  lounge 
and  absorbed  in  a  romance.  She  lifted  herself 
up  on  her  elbow. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  I  have  some  news  for  you,  mother,"  Doro- 
thea replied,  holding  back  her  news  as  one 
holds  a  sweetmeat  from  a  child. 

"  Some  one  dead  or  engaged,  I  suppose." 

The  invalid  put  her  book-mark  in  place 
and  closed  the  novel  with  decision. 

Dorothea  threw  off  her  wrap  and  let  it  drop 


66  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

on  the  back  of  a  chair.  "  No,  not  exactly. 
Aleck  French  has  left  his  wife." 

"  Left  his  wife  !  "  Mrs.  Wayne  rose  from 
her  elbow  and  sat  bolt-upright. 

"  Yes,"  Dorothea  repeated  in  almost  the 
same  words  that  Miss  Flagler  had  used.  "  Left 
the  Latin  Quarter  and  taken  a  house  in  Ver- 
sailles, and  his  wife  has  disappeared." 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  cried  the  invalid,  brush- 
ing the  hair  on  either  side  of  her  head  with 
both  hands.  v  Then,  as  she  contemplated  her 
daughter,  she  went  on  :  "  It's  a  judgment  on 
him.  He  might  have  expected  it — the  idea  of 
his  marrying  such  a " 

"  Don't,  mother !     Please  don't !  " 

"  Well " 

Mrs.  Wayne  was  always  saying  "  Well  "  to 
her  daughter ;  it  was  a  recognition  of  defeat. 
After  uttering  it  this  time,  she  sat  back  on  the 
lounge"  and  watched  Dorothea  as  she  did  when- 
ever she  had  things  to  say  that  she  knew  the 
girl  did  not  care  to  hear.  She  wished  that 
Dorothea  would  leave  the  room,  so  that  she 
might  seek  out  the  Misses  Marbury  and  knead 
this  news.  But  Dorothea  gave  no  sign  of  be- 
ing about  to  leave,  and  the  invalid  resigned  her- 
self to  wait.  Finally,  after  long  cogitation,  as 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  67 

Dorothea  was  bending  over  the  box  of  paints 
she  had  brought  into  the  room,  she  resumed : 

"  I  must  say  I  always  liked  Aleck  French." 

She  received  no  reply. 

"  I  used  to  think  he  had  character,"  the  in- 
valid went  on,  hoping  to  force  her  daughter  to 
speak: 

"  He  has  character,  mother." 

"  Yes,  great  character,  to  have  treated  you 
as  he  did  !  " 

"  Mother !  " 

This  was  the  first  intimation  Mrs.  Wayne 
had  ever  given  her  daughter  that  she  suspected 
the  real  cause  of  the  breaking  of  the  engage- 
ment ;  but  it  was  only  a  chance  shot,  as  Doro- 
thea realized  later.  After  making  it,  she  was 
frightened  at  her  own  boldness.  She  closed 
her  eyes  and,  in  spite  of  her  agitation,  she  fell 
asleep  and  did  not  wake  till  dinner-time.  For 
an  hour  she  was  obliged  to  sit  opposite  the 
Misses  Marbury  without  uttering  a  word  of 
the  news ;  but  after  dessert  she  slipped  into 
their  room  and  she  was  rewarded  for  her  tor- 
ture by  an  evening  of  rare  communion  of 
thought. 

The  Misses  Marbury  were  at  first  amazed, 
appalled  by  the  disclosure ;  then,  after  taking 


68  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

it  deep  into  consciousness,  they  were  unable 
to  throw  the  light  of  their  social  wisdom  upon 
it ;  for  such  a  case  had  never  before  come  to 
their  attention ;  it  quite  transcended  all  their 
former  experiences. 

Indeed,  the  lives  of  these  ladies,  like  the 
lives  of  most  American  women,  were  remote 
from  social  complications.  They  had  the  most 
innocent  conception  of  evil.  Of  course,  their 
chief  interest  in  Aleck  French's  complication 
lay  in  its  relation  to  Dorothea  ;  they  wanted 
to  make  clear  to  her  mother  just  what  effect 
it  would  have  upon  the  girl.  They  offered 
many  tentative  suggestions,  but  each  of  these 
was  hedged  about  by  so  many  conditions  and 
fatal  possibilities  that  the  whole  affair  was 
left  in  a  state  of  chaotic  mystery.  This 
sent  Mrs.  Wayne  to  bed  in  nervous  excite- 
ment, with  a  new  sense  of  importance  and  of 
great  events  to  come,  and  threw  the  sisters 
into  the  most  bewildering  agitation  they  had 
known  since  the  occasion  of  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd's 
call. 


VII. 

THE  Misses  Marbury  resumed  their  watch 
on  Dorothea's  countenance  for  a  sign  of  the 
effect  upon  her  of  Aleck  French's  catastrophe ; 
but  again  they  were  disappointed.  They  con- 
cluded, rather  illogically,  that  Dorothea  was 
selfish.  As  for  Mrs.  Wayne,  she  was  unable  to 
give  much  thought  to  the  matter,  for  she  was 
taken  down  with  a  mild  attack  of  rheumatic 
fever  that  for  several  weeks  kept  her  mind 
chiefly  upon  herself.  Dorothea  still  went  to 
the  League  and  to  the  studio,  though  she 
did  much  of  her  work  at  home,  so  that  she 
might  be  at  hand  to  minister  to  her  mother. 
Her  ministrations  were  few,  however,  for  the 
Misses  Marbury  spent  most  of  their  time  in  the 
invalid's  room,  emerging  only  occasionally  to 
seek  an  art  gallery  or  a  lecture  hall,  or  some 
other  improving  resort. 

At  the  studio  Edgar  Wentworth  seconded 
Miss  Flagler's  advice  that  Dorothea  go  abroad 

69 


yo  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

for  further  study.  Miss  Flagler  had  herself  or- 
ganized a  party  for  summer  sketching  near 
Paris,  and  urged  Dorothea  to  join  it ;  it  was 
to  be  under  the  direction  of  Arthur  Roberts, 
the  landscape  painter.  A  lot  of  League  girls 
were  going,  and  it  would  be  the  greatest  fun ! 
Miss  Flagler  smiled  suggestively  when  she  an- 
nounced that  Arthur  Roberts  was  to  be  di- 
rector; she  had  secured  the  chance  for  him. 

But  for  a  turn  in  her  mother's  illness,  Doro- 
thea would  not  have  seriously  thought  of  fol- 
lowing Wentworth's  advice.  She  could  hardly 
believe  that  her  talent  was  as  great  as  he  declared 
it  to  be ;  her  years  of  association  with  Aleck 
French  had  made  her  mistrustful  of  her  own 
ability ;  beside  his,  her  drawings  had  seemed  imi- 
tative and  weak.  She  did  not  realize  how  great 
her  improvement  had  been  since  those  days,  or 
that  her  work  might  be  vastly  inferior  to  his  and 
yet  be  good.  She  enjoyed  her  success,  chiefly 
because  it  added  a  keen  interest  to  her  life. 

It  was  only  when  Mrs.  Wayne's  physician 
suggested  an  ocean  voyage  as  a  remedy  for  his 
patient  that  Dorothea  first  considered  the  plan 
of  studying  abroad.  It  had  not  before  occurred 
to  her  that  her  mother  could,  or  would  go ;  in- 
deed, the  invalid  did  at  first  object  strenuously 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  71 

to  the  plan.  She  wanted  to  go  back  to  Oswego, 
she  said.  She  was  secretly  much  disappointed 
in  the  winter;  she  had  thought  that  more 
would  happen  to  her  daughter  than  had  hap- 
pened ;  the  art  work  she  regarded  lightly,  as  a 
mere  diversion ;  she  wanted  Dorothea  to  get 
married — married,  as  she  said  plainly  to  the 
Misses  Marbury.  These  ladies  counselled  pa- 
tience and — Europe ;  they  had  read  of  so  many 
girls  who  had  made  fine  marriages  through 
trips  to  Europe !  Besides,  Miss  Sophia  Mar- 
bury,  who  possessed  the  more  vivid  imagination 
of  the  sisters,  felt  sure  that  Dorothea's  beauty 
and  "  presence  "  (she  had  caught  the  word  from 
Mrs.  Wayne)  would  secure  for  her  a  splendid 
match.  She  had  always  maintained,  she  de- 
clared, that  Dorothea  ought  to  be  the  mistress 
of  a  great  mansion,  and  walk  down  to  break- 
fast over  broad  stairs  covered  with  a  crimson 
carpet. 

It  was  Dorothea's  fate  to  be  considered  or- 
namental, to  be  pushed  about  from  place  to 
place,  from  niche  to  niche,  in  the  imagination 
of  her  friends,  as  a  beautiful  vase  is  tried  here 
and  there  in  a  drawing  room  for  the  best  effect. 
Miss  Sophia  Marbury  had  never  produced  a 
finer  effect  than  when  she  posed  Dorothea 


72  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

before  her  mother's  vision  on  the  crimson-car- 
peted stairs  of  an  ancestral  hall  ;  for  Mrs. 
Wayne's  mind,  though  not  original,  was  quick 
to  seize  and  elaborate  the  suggestions  of  others, 
and  as  she  lay  in  bed,  thinking  of  her  plans  for 
the  summer,  she  added  many  brilliant  touches 
to  Miss  Sophia's  picture. 

Of  course,  her  imagination  glowed  over  Os- 
wego,  too,  making  the  little  city  almost  seduc- 
tive in  its  delights ;  she  had  forgotten  that  even 
the  society  of  the  matrons  was  monotonous ; 
she  thought  of  them  now  only  as  sympathetic 
listeners  to  her  exposition  of  her  trials  with  her 
daughter.  Then,  inconsistently,  she  thought  of 
the  effect  on  these  ladies  of  Dorothea's  triumphs 
in  Europe.  It  was  really  this  thought  that 
finally  decided  her  to  make  the  voyage ;  she 
would  forego  present  pleasure  for  future  re- 
wards. 

When  she  broached  the  plan  to  Dorothea 
she  was  surprised  to  encounter  no  opposition. 
She  was  always  expecting  opposition  from  her 
daughter,  and  this  gave  her  timid  manner  a 
curious  and  vexatious  suggestion  of  belliger- 
ence. 

The  Misses  Marbury  were  as  excited  over 
the  voyage  as  if  they  were  about  to  make  it 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


73 


themselves.  For  many  years  they  had  cher- 
ished a  passionate  hope  that  they  might  one  day 
visit  the  art  galleries  of  Europe.  For  them  Eu- 
rope consisted  chiefly  of  a  vista  of  art  galleries, 
and  they  loved  to  think  of  themselves  as  wan- 
dering in  it  hand-in-hand  to  the  vanishing  point. 
They  bored  Mrs.  Wayne  by  dwelling  on  the  art- 
aspect  of  a  European  tour,  and  they  prepared 
for  her  a  list  of  galleries  that  she  ought  not 
to  fail  to  visit.  With  Dorothea  they  were  less 
prodigal  of  advice ;  they  could  not  understand 
how  such  a  proud,  hard  girl  as  she  was  could 
really  have  feeling  for  art,  and  her  failure  to 
show  enthusiasm  over  the  pictures  they  loved, 
or  over  any  pictures  for  that  matter,  convinced 
them  that  with  her  art  was  only  a  pastime. 

When  Mrs.  Wayne  consulted  the  Misses 
Marbury  about  the  trip,  the  sisters,  with  splen- 
did self-abnegation,  declared  the  sooner  she. 
departed  the  better  for  herself  and  her  daugh- 
ter. They  would  miss  her  dreadfully,  of  course, 
and  at  the  thought  of  the  severance  of  their 
union  the  three  ladies  indulged  in  preliminary 
weeping.  However,  as  Miss  Sophia  remarked, 
they  would  be  together  again  in  the  autumn. 
Mrs.  Wayne  had  announced  her  intention  of 
returning  to  the  boarding-house  for  the  winter, 


74  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

though  she  had  secretly  made  up  her  mind  to 
return  to  Oswego.  The  Misses  Marbury  had 
decided  to  pass  the  summer  in  Maple  Valley,  in 
northern  New  York,  where  the  scenery  would 
almost  compensate  them  for  their  three  months' 
exile  from  pictures  of  scenery. 

For  the  next  few  weeks  Dorothea  was  so 
occupied  with  preparations  for  her  mother's 
departure  that  she  had  no  time  to  go  to  the 
studio.  So  the  day  before  she  sailed  she  wrote 
notes  of  farewell  to  Edgar  Went  worth  and  Miss 
Flagler.  As  for  Mrs.  Wayne,  her  weakness  was 
so  great  that  for  a  few  days  it  looked  as  if  the 
voyage  must  be  abandoned.  Now  that  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  go,  she  felt  bitterly  disap- 
pointed at  the  possibility  of  being  obliged  to 
stay  at  home. 

Under  the  inspiration  of  her  physician,  how- 
ever, who  urged  her  to  make  an  effort  to  rouse 
herself,  and  held  out  flattering  rewards  from  the 
trip,  and  of  the  Misses  Marbury,  who  covertly 
inspired  her  with  the  prospect  of  rewards  of 
another  sort,  Mrs.  Wayne  rose  from  her  bed 
three  days  before  the  ship  sailed,  thinner  and 
whiter  than  ever.  These  were  spent  in  fever- 
ish activity,  so  that  when  she  reached  the 
ship  she  went  at  once  to  her  berth  in  a  state  of 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  75 

collapse.  Dorothea  had  been  alarmed  about 
her,  and  would  have  insisted  upon  her  staying 
at  the  boarding-house,  but  for  the  advice  of  the 
doctor,  who  declined  to  take  a  serious  view  of 
her  mother's  ailments. 

To  the  end  the  Misses  Marbury  supported 
their  friend  ;  they  would  have  gone  down  the 
harbour  with  her  if  they  could  have  arranged  to 
make  the  trip,  but  for  the  abject  weakness  of 
Miss  Millicent,  who  had  been  known  to  be  vio- 
lently sick  when  there  was  scarcely  a  ripple  on 
the  water.  Mrs.  Wayne's  parting  with  them 
had  a  pathetic  intensity ;  she  dreaded  the  sea, 
and  this  farewell  seemed  to  her  almost  like  bid- 
ding a  last  good-bye  to  her  loved  ones  on  earth. 
The  grief  of  the  Misses  Marbury  was  glorified 
by  a  sublime  unselfishness ;  they  smiled  through 
their  tears,  as  if  rejoicing  at  the  pleasure  that 
was  to  come  to  their  companion  in  the  next 
three  months. 

Dorothea  watched  the  scene  calmly ;  she  had 
often  been  present  when  her  mother  went 
through  these  agonies,  and  she  had  always 
fecund  them  so  transient  that  she  could  not  take 
them  seriously.  The  Misses  Marbury,  as  they 
rode  home  in  Mrs.  Wayne's  carriage,  com- 
mented on  her  attitude. 


76  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  She's  as  hard  as  flint"  said  Miss  Sophia, 
and  "  Poor  Mrs.  Wayne ! "  Miss  Millicent  mur- 
mured. 

The  next  morning  Dorothea  rose  early  and 
went  up  on  deck  to  escape  the  bad  air.  Though 
the  weather  during  the  night  was  hot,  the  port- 
holes had  all  been  closed  and  the  atmosphere 
in  her  room  had  kept  her  from  sleeping  for  more 
than  two  or  three  hours.  Her  mother  she  left 
in  deep  slumber.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  periods  of 
extreme  sleepfulness  and  extreme  wakefulness  ; 
the  sea  always  made  her  drowsy,  and  its  influ- 
ence was  increased  by  the  fatigue  caused  by  her 
three  days  of  nervous  energy  in  New  York. 

Though  it  was  more  than  an  hour  before 
breakfast,  Dorothea  found  several  people  on 
deck.  They,  too,  had  evidently  been  driven 
from  their  rooms  by  the  atmosphere.  The  ship 
rolled  gently  and  the  air  was  bracing.  A  tall, 
pale  young  man,  with  a  black  mustache  that 
formed  a  half-circle  round  his  mouth,  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  and  eating  bits  of  a  biscuit 
that  he  held  in  his  hand.  Dorothea  chose  the 
other  side  of  the  ship  for  a  promenade,  and 
for  the  next  half-hour  she  walked  energetically. 
The  young  man  meanwhile  sank  slowly  into  a 
steamer  chair  and  ceased  munching  his  biscuit. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  77 

There  was  in  his  face  a  look  of  haggard  inter- 
rogation, as  if  he  were  wondering  what  was 
going  to  happen  next.  Dorothea  observed  the 
same  look  in  several  of  the  people  round  her. 
A  few  of  them  were  sipping  beef-broth,  laying 
the  bowl  down  hastily  every  few  moments  and 
leaning  back  in  their  chairs.  She  could  not 
keep  from  smiling  at  these  manifestations ;  she 
herself  had  never  felt  in  better  health  and  spir- 
its ;  she  would  have  liked  to  run  about  the 
deck,  to  romp  ;  she  was  full  of  energy,  she  felt 
the  physical  joy  of  living. 

While  she  was  sitting  in  her  chair  after  her 
walk,  she  heard  coming  up  the  gangway  a  clear 
woman's  voice.  It  was  speedily  followed  by  a 
tall,  thin,  wiry  figure  clinging  to  the  railing  and 
turning  to  direct  speech  to  the  large  yellow- 
faced  man  behind  her.  The  man  seemed  hardly 
in  a  condition  to  heed  what  was  being  said. 
He  had  a  wilted  look ;  his  bulging  blue  eyes 
were  glassy,  and  his  blonde  beard,  just  turning 
gray,  harmonized  with  the  colour  of  his  skin. 
His  companion  was  urging  him  to  walk,  but  he 
pulled  his  arm  away  from  her  hand  and  dropped 
wearily  into  a  seat  near  Dorothea. 

"  You're  very  foolish  not  to  walk.  That's 
the  only  way  to  shake  it  off." 


78  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Go  away !  "  he  said  testily,  passing  his  hand 
over  his  face. 

"  Want  some  beef-tea?  " 

"No,  I  don't !     Let  me  alone." 

She  wrapped  around  his  legs  the  shawl  that 
she  had  carried  on  her  arm.  He  submitted  pas- 
sively, though  his  face  expressed  displeasure. 
Then  she  sat  down  beside  him  and  began  again 
to  talk. 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  away,"  he  said,  from  be- 
hind his  hand.  "Just  let  me  alone,  and  I'll  be 
all  right." 

For  the  next  few  moments  she  remained  in 
her  seat  and  devoted  herself  to  a  scrutiny  of 
her  fellow-passengers.  Dorothea  was  watch- 
ing her,  though  her  eyes  were  bent  on  the  sea. 

After  her  first  shock  of  surprise,  Dorothea 
felt  sure  that  her  impression  had  not  deceived 
her.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  hawklike 
face.  In  all  the  consciousness  of  her  social  po- 
sition Mrs.  Follet  Ladd  was  examining  each 
passenger  with  judicial  calmness.  On  Doro- 
thea the  sharp  eyes  rested  last,  and  there  they 
remained  for  a  long  time.  Dorothea  felt  that 
her  features,  her  figure,  her  blue  felt  hat  and 
her  blue  ulster  with  its  red  lining,  were  being 
considered  in  all  their  bearings.  She  bore  the 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  79 

scrutiny  without  flinching.  When  it  was  over, 
Mrs.  Ladd  turned  as  if  to  speak  to  her  husband, 
but  after  a  keen  glance  at  his  face,  which  with 
its  closed  eyes  seemed  deathlike,  she  looked 
away  again  and  apparently  gave  herself  up  to 
a  consideration  of  the  words  she  had  intended 
to  say. 

In  spite  of  its  sharpness  she  had  a  rather 
fine  face.  The  features  were  regular,  the  nose 
straight,  the  nostrils  well  defined,  and  the  thin, 
tightly  compressed  lips  and  the  clearly  outlined 
chin  indicated  firmness  of  character.  The  hair, 
jet  black,  was  tightly  arranged  at  the  back  of 
the  head.  The  forehead  was  the  ugliest  feature  ; 
it  was  too  square  and  broad  for  a  woman.  Mrs. 
Ladd  was  evidently  very  intelligent,  but  to 
Dorothea  she  seemed  distinctly  unprepossess- 
ing. Even  now  as  she  rose  nervously  to  peer 
over  the  railing  of  the  deck  she  had  the  air  ot 
swooping  down  on  something.  Dorothea  feared 
that  Mrs.  Ladd  might  be  about  to  swoop  down 
on  her.  Of  course,  she  would  make  prey  of  a 
few  of  the  passengers ;  the  others  she  would 
ignore.  In  her  brown  cloth  dress,  her  heavy 
black  coat,  her  brown  shoes,  and  black  yacht- 
ing-cap, she  made  a  curious  picture  as  she 
stood,  flanked  by  the  blue  sky  and  the  sea. 


8o  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

Not  a  ship  was  in  sight.  Dorothea  smiled  as 
she  thought  of  her  mother  and  herself  in  mid- 
ocean  with  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd.  Of  course,  her 
mother  would  rejoice  at  discovering  that  the 
lady  was  on  board  with  whom  she  had  had  so 
brief  and  so  delicious  an  intimacy ;  the  knowl- 
edge might  inspire  her  to  rise  from  her  berth. 
This  invigorating  possibility,  however,  did  not 
make  Dorothea  feel  it  was  her  duty  to  impart 
the  information.  So,  when  she  went  into  the 
stateroom,  she  did  not  speak  of  Mrs.  Ladd. 
Mrs.  Wayne  was  wide  awake  and  inhaling  the 
salt  air  that  the  stewardess  had  permitted  to 
pass  through  the  porthole.  Her  eyes  were 
bright  but  not  feverish,  and  there  was  a  faint 
touch  of  colour  in  her  cheeks. 

"You're  feeling  better,  mother,  aren't  you?" 

"  Ever  so  much.  I  slept  beautifully  last 
night.  I  was  so  tired.  Mrs.  McLeod  brought 
me  in  some  beef  tea.  She  thinks  I  sha'n't  be 
sick,  and  she's  going  to  help  me  up  on  deck  by 
and  by."  A  moment  later  she  added,  "  There 
must  be  some  one  on  board  that  we  know." 

Dorothea  could  not  have  explained  why  she 
hesitated  about  speaking  of  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd's 
presence  on  the  ship ;  her  mother  would  cer- 
tainly recognise  her.  In  the  flash  of  recogni- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  8l 

tion  between  them,  however,  they  might  agree 
to  ignore  their  acquaintance.  This  acquaint- 
ance, Dorothea  was  well  aware,  her  mother 
would  be  glad  enough  to  renew ;  but  her  agi- 
tation might  cause  her  to  dissemble,  and,  once 
ignored,  Mrs.  Ladd  might  keep  away  from 
them. 

Dorothea  was  not  conscious  of  this  reasoning 
in  her  mind ;  if  she  had  been,  she  would  have 
been  ashamed  of  it  and  repudiated  it.  But  it 
must  have  been  some  unconscious  reflection  of 
this  character  that  prevented  her  from  speaking 
out  about  Harrington  Boyd's  inquisitive  friend. 
Once  restored  to  intimacy  with  her  mother, 
Mrs.  Ladd  would  be  made  the  recipient  of  in- 
numerable personal  confidences  about  herself, 
and  would  perhaps  become  a  partner  in  her 
mother's  scheming  as  well.  Of  the  scheming 
with  the  Misses  Marbury,  Dorothea  was  fully 
aware  ;  her  mother  had  betrayed  it  by  many  in- 
timations and  references. 

In  moments  of  desperation  Dorothea  wished 
she  could  go  away  to  a  place  where  no  one  knew 
her,  where  she  could  escape  being  talked  over. 
But  such  a  place,  she  realized  in  calmer  moods, 
did  not  exist.  Even  if  her  mother  had  not  the 
feminine  passion  for  matrimonial  conspiracies, 


g2  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

other  people  would  have  it  for  her.  Young  un- 
married women  were  natural  subjects  for  dis- 
cussion ;  after  twenty-five  the  world  was  a  per- 
petual challenge  to  them  for  the  reason  they 
were  not  married. 

When  Dorothea  went  on  deck  with  her 
mother,  Mrs.  Ladd  was  not  there.  She  had 
probably  gone  below.  Half  an  hour  later  she 
reappeared.  As  soon  as  her  figure  stood  in  the 
passageway  Mrs.  Wayne's  sharp  eyes  lit  upon 
her. 

The  invalid's  face  flushed  and  her  fingers 
twitched.  She  suddenly  turned. 

"  There's  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd  !  Look— quick  ! 
Over  there  !  See  her  ?  " 

"  I  saw  her  this  morning,"  said  Dorothea. 

Mrs.  Wayne  darted  a  reproachful  glance  at 
her  daughter.  Then  she  turned  her  eyes  again 
on  the  social  leader.  Mrs.  Ladd  lingered  for  a 
moment  in  the  passageway,  and  then  walked  over 
to  her  chair,  which  stood  only  a  few  yards  away 
from  Mrs.  Wayne's.  The  invalid's  eyes  were 
ready  to  catch  hers ;  Dorothea  saw  that  her 
mother  was  determined  not  to  allow  Mrs.  Ladd 
to  escape.  She  could  see,  too,  the  glance  of 
surprise  that  Mrs.  Ladd  gave  her  mother,  who 
was  bowing  and  smiling  with  impetuous  en- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  83 

thusiasm.  Mrs.  Ladd  could  not  have  done 
otherwise  than  bow  in  return ;  but  the  bow 
was  vague,  and  for  an  instant  her  eyes  gave  no 
sign  of  recognition.  Dorothea  thought  that  her 
mother  had  lost.  Then  the  hawklike  face  be- 
came illumined,  and  Mrs.  Ladd  hurried  for- 
ward and  extended  her  hand. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  at  first,"  she  said,  show- 
ing small,  regular  white  teeth.  "  It's  such  a 
pleasant  surprise  to  find  you  on  board !  How 
good  of  you  to  remember  me  !  " 

"  I  recognised  you  as  soon  as  I  saw  you," 
explained  Mrs.  Wayne,  as  if  she  had  performed 
a  feat.  Then  she  presented  Dorothea. 

"  So  you  are  Miss  Wayne,"  Mrs.  Ladd  ex- 
claimed triumphantly.  "  I  thought  there  was 
something  unusual  about  you." 

"  I  am  Miss  Wayne,"  Dorothea  replied,  try- 
ing to  smile,  "  but  I  didn't  know  there  was  any- 
thing unusual  about  me." 

"  I  noticed  you  this  morning,  and  I  thought 
you  looked  like  some  one  I  had  seen  before.  Oh, 
I've  heard  so  many  nice  things  about  you  !  " 

"  Have  you,  really  ?  " 

"  Dorothea  hates  compliments,"  said  Mrs. 
Wayne,  her  face  beaming.  "  So  you  mustn't 
tell  her  anything  pleasant  about  herself." 


84  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Then  I  shall  be  as  disagreeable  to  you  as  I 
know  how  to  be,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd,  glancing-  at 
the  girl  and  making  her  feel  that  she  was  being 
"  taken  in  "  again. 

"  Do  bring  your  chair  up,  Mrs.  Ladd." 

Mrs.  Wayne  felt  a  certain  frigid  quality  in 
her  daughter's  demeanour  that  usually  subdued 
her ;  now,  however,  she  determined  to  fight 
against  it,  and,  in  spite  of  Dorothea's  desire  to 
keep  Mrs.  Ladd  at  a  distance,  to  be  herself 
as  agreeable  to  the  social  leader  as  she  knew 
how  to  be. 

Mrs.  Ladd  acted  on  the  invitation  at 
once. 

"  It's  such  a  relief  to  see  you  here,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  completed  an  elaborate  arrange- 
ment of  wraps  for  her  comfort.  "  I've  been 
looking  the  passengers  over,  and  I  can  see  that 
most  of  them  are  impossible.  There  are  a  lot 
of  horrid  Western  people  on  board." 

"  We  are  Western,  you  know,"  said  Doro- 
thea calmly. 

Mrs.  Ladd's  swarthy  face  flushed  a  little, 
but  she  kept  her  composure. 

"  But  not  the  horrid  kind,  my  dear." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Dorothea  ? 
You  know  well  enough  that  Oswego  isn't  the 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  85 

West.  Besides,  your  father  came  from  New 
England." 

"  It  would  be  much  easier  to  forgive  Os- 
wego  than  New  England,"  Mrs.  Ladd  smiled. 
She  had  herself  all  the  provincialism  that 
comes  from  a  residence  of  forty  years  in  New 
York,  combined  with  a  consciousness  of 
Dutch  ancestors  who  had  lived  there  before 
her. 

"  You  know  we  are  always  called  Western 
people  when  we're  in  Boston,"  said  Dorothea, 
turning  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Wayne  was  anxious  to  ask  Mrs.  Ladd 
questions  about  her  friends  on  the  steamer,  her 
plans,  and  many  other  subjects.  A  splendid 
project  leaped  into  her  mind  of  combining 
forces  with  the  social  leader  and  conducting 
a  glorious  campaign  in  Dorothea's  behalf. 
Mrs.  Ladd,  of  course,  had  the  entrance  into 
many  a  noble  English  house.  The  vision  of 
her  daughter  walking  down  to  breakfast  over 
a  crimson-carpeted  staircase  again  caressed  her 
imagination.  Mrs.  Wayne  longed  for  a  con- 
fidential talk  with  Mrs.  Ladd ;  she  had  so  much 
to  tell  her  about  Dorothea.  Of  course,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  have  a  confidential 
talk  on  any  subject  in  her  daughter's  presence, 


86  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

which  seemed  always  to  produce  the  effect  of 
blighting  confidence. 

Mrs.  Wayne's  desire  to  hear  of  Mrs.  Ladd's 
"party"  and  plans  was  speedily  gratified,  and 
as  the  information  was  being  unfolded,  her  im- 
agination illustrated  it  by  a  series  of  brilliant 
pictures,  each  having  Dorothea  for  its  cen- 
tral figure. 

"  We're  going  just  for  a  few  months  this 
time,"  she  explained,  when  she  had  questioned 
Dorothea  with  regard  to  her  programme  for 
the  summer.  "  Mr.  Ladd  and  I  thought  we'd 
run  over  for  the  change.  We  intend  to  do 
just  as  we  please.  We'll  probably  stay  for  a 
little  while  in  London,  and  then  go  down  to 
the  country  for  a  rest.  I'm  always  so  tired 
after  the  winter.  One  has  to  do  so  many  things 
nowadays.  The  whole  burden  of  life  seems  to 
have  fallen  on  us  poor  women  ;  yet  some  fools 
of  women  are  trying  to  get  more  responsi- 
bilities." 

"  Women  are  becoming  so  forward,"  Mrs. 
Wayne  sighed. 

Dorothea  smiled  in  spite  of  herself.  Mrs. 
Ladd's  quick  eye  noticed  her  expression. 

"  Surely  you  don't  take  sides  with  those  silly 
women,"  she  said  in  mock  horror. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  87 

Dorothea  was  amused  by  the  unconscious 
patronage.  "  I  don't  take  either  side,"  she 
replied. 

"  Oh  !  "  Mrs.  Ladd's  eye  blinked.  She  said 
to  herself  that  the  girl  was  interesting  but 
hateful.  "  But  you  must  sympathize  one 
way  or  the  other,"  she  went  on  after  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  I  think  I  sympathize  with  the  women.  If 
they  want  certain  privileges  that  men  have,  I 
don't  see  why  they  shouldn't  have  them." 

"  But  it  spoils  them ;  it  makes  them  un- 
womanly." 

"Think  of  a  woman  voting!"  said  Mrs. 
Wayne,  with  fine  contempt. 

"  I  can't  see  why  women  shouldn't  vote  it 
they  want  to.  Some  women  need  -to  vote  to 
protect  their  rights,  I've  heard.  If  that  is  so, 
they  certainly  ought  to  have  the  privilege  of 
voting,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  But  it  imposes  such  a  duty  on  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Ladd. 

"  The  duty  of  helping  other  people,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Oh,  you  are  too  subtle"  Mrs.  Ladd  cried, 
rather  irrelevantly,  Dorothea  thought.  "  You'd 
have  us  inundated  by  the  lower  classes.  Every 


88  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

woman  in  the  lower  classes  would  be  sure  to 
vote." 

"  I  suppose  they  have  a  right  to  be  heard, 
like  other  people." 

"  But,  my  dear"  Mrs.  Ladd  interposed, 
"  think  of  the  influence  the  lower  classes  would 
gain  by  it." 

"The  vote  of  all  classes  would  be  doubled, 
wouldn't  it?"  said  Dorothea,  with  a  smile. 

"  But  the  women  of  our  world  wouldn't 
vote." 

"  Then  they  must  be  less  intelligent  than  the 
women  of  the  lower  classes." 

"  But  can't  you  see,"  Mrs.  Ladd  insisted,  de- 
spairingly, "  that  would  oblige  us  to  vote  ?  " 

"  It  would  also  oblige  us  to  think,"  Dorothea 
laughed.  "  That  wouldn't  be  very  bad,  would 
it?" 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd,  sinking 
back  in  her  chair  with  a  smile,  "  I  shall  have 
to  take  you  in  hand ;"  and  "  Where  in  the  world 
did  you  get  these  ideas?"  cried  Mrs.  Wayne, 
impatiently. 

Half  an  hour  later,  on  returning  to  the  state- 
room, Mrs.  Ladd  found  her  husband  less  dis- 
agreeable than  he  had  been  since  they  left  New 
York.  He  was  still  cross,  however  ;  indeed,  his 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  89 

usual  attitude  toward  his  wife  was  one  of  bored 
resentment.  He  was  lying  on  his  back,  and  his 
face  was  yellow  and  unshaven.  When  she 
asked  him  in  her  brisk  voice  how  he  felt,  he 
merely  grunted. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  are  on  board  ?  "  she 
said. 

He  did  not  condescend  to  reply. 

"  Those  people  Harrington  Boyd  met  near 
Boston  last  summer." 

"What  people?"  he  half-articulated,  closing 
his  eyes. 

"  Why,  the  girl  that  jilted  him — the 
one  I  told  ygu  about.  She's  here  with  her 
mother." 

The  yellow  face  grew  more  animated  and 
the  bulging  eyes  opened. 

"  What's  she  like  ?  " 

"  Shes  magnificent — the  girl.  She'll  make  a 
great  success  in  London  if  she's  properly  man- 
aged." 

"  Met  them  ?  "  Ladd  rolled  his  eyes  toward 
his  wife.  He  had  a  habit  of  looking  her  over 
questioningly,  as  if  wondering  what  she  was  do- 
ing in  his  presence. 

Mrs.  Ladd  nodded.     "Just  now." 

For  a  moment  Ladd  lay  with  his  eyes  closed. 


go  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

Then,  "How  old  is  she?"  he  said,  opening 
them  again. 

Mrs.  Ladd  was  holding  a  small  glass  before 
her  face  and  arranging  her  hair  with  one  hand. 

"Thirty." 

"  Pretty  ?  " 

"  No  ;  handsome — handsome  and  icy." 

Follett  Ladd  had  been  born  rich  and  he  had 
deliberately  dedicated  himself  to  a  life  of  ease  ; 
he  had  no  talents  and  few  interests  beyond  those 
connected  with  pleasure ;  he  could  play  a  good 
game  of  cards,  and  he  could  turn  an  apprecia- 
tive eye  on  horse-flesh.  He  could  also  sit  still 
for  hours  at  his  club  window,  smoking  a  cigar 
and  ruminating,  and  gazing  with  appreciation 
at  the  pretty  women  in  Fifth  Avenue.  With 
his  wife  he  lived  on  terms  of  armed  neutrality. 
In  New  York  they  were  seldom  seen  together, 
and  their  indifference  to  each  other  was  well 
known.  He  served  her  simply  as  a  fund  and 
a  matrimonial  background.  People  used  to 
wonder  how  so  dull  a  man  as  Follett  Ladd 
had  happened  to  marry  so  clever  a  woman ; 
for,  though  Mrs.  Ladd  was  disliked  in  her  set — 
and  out  of  it,  too,  for  she  was  ready  to  rush  in 
everywhere  with  counsel — her  cleverness  was 
generally  admitted.  "  She  means  well  enough," 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  9! 

said  Mrs.  Bateman  Hyde  of  her  one  day,  "  but 
her  good   intentions   evaporate   in   bustle   and 
talk."    Like  most  epigrams,  this  was  not  wholly 
just.      Mrs.   Ladd's  good   intentions  often   had 
beneficent   realizations ;    she    occupied    herself 
with  much  unostentatious  charity,  and  she  occa- 
sionally lent  a  helping  hand  to  promising  talent. 
But  to  talent  that  did  not  promise  success  she 
was  indifferent.     She  surrounded  herself  with 
clever  people  who  were  either  on  the  top  of  the 
wave  or  on  the  way  to  it.     In  course  of  time  a 
tacit  agreement  had  grown  up  between   herself 
and    her   husband   that   they    were  to  let  each 
other  alone,  that  they  were  both  to  do  as  they 
pleased.     This  agreement  Mrs.  Ladd  constantly 
violated  in  small  things ;  but  with  regard  to  the 
more  vital  affairs  of  life  she  had  nothing  to  say 
to  her  husband.    In  public  she  treated  him  with 
a   show  of  affection.      But,  "Oh,  she  talks  too 
much  !  "  he  used  to  say  to  his  friends  about  her. 
Follett    Ladd's     phlegmatic     temperament, 
however,  kept  him    from    being  touched  very 
deeply  by  his  wife's  brisk  irritations.    His  trials 
were  simply  surface  trials ;  his  thick  layer  of  fat 
seemed  to  serve  as  an  impregnable   barrier  to 
genuine  trouble.     He  felt,  as  he  looked  back  on 
his  life  of  pleasure,  that  it  had  been  a  successful 


£2  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

life.  This  is  not  the  way  he  would  have  ex- 
pressed it,  however;  he  would  probably  have 
said  that  he'd  got  as  much  out  of  life  as  most 
men  did.  Of  the  glow  of  work,  of  the  joy  of 
achievement,  he  knew  and  he  wished  to  know 
nothing;  indeed,  he  had  no  real  belief  that  such 
pleasure  existed  in  the  world ;  to  him  all  effort 
was  drudgery.  He  had  often  seen  his  wife  in 
the  glow  of  gratuitous  work,  in  the  joy  of  what 
seemed  to  him  a  fatuous  achievement,  and  the 
spectacle  disgusted  him.  Mrs.  Ladd,  indeed, 
seemed  always  to  be  working  in  some  way ;  her 
indefatigable  brain  could  never  keep  still ;  if  she 
couldn't  exercise  it  in  a  high  and  mighty  way, 
she  would  exercise  it  ignobly.  During  the  voy- 
age she  would  probably  exercise  it  chiefly  on 
the  girl  she  had  been  speaking  about,  prying 
into  her  secrets  and  interfering  with  her  plans. 
At  any  rate,  it  would  give  her  something  to 
think  of ;  so  she  would  probably  let  him  alone. 


VIII. 

THE  weather  continued  pleasant,  and  on  the 
fourth  day  out  the  big  dining  room  of  the  Lu- 
cania  was  crowded  at  every  meal.  As  Doro- 
thea had  anticipated,  the  friendship  between  her 
mother  and  Mrs.  Ladd  developed  steadily, 
though  her  own  acquaintance  with  the  social 
leader  did  not  notably  prosper.  Mrs.  Ladd  had 
persuaded  Mrs.  Wayne  to  pass  a  few  weeks  in 
London  ;  she  knew  of  some  delightful  lodgings 
that  could  be  secured  in  Mandeville  Place,  near 
Portman  Square  ;  the  Snells  had  lived  there  the 
year  before.  Every  one — that  is,  every  visitor — 
in  London  lived  in  lodgings  or  hotels,  and  the 
lodgings  were  the  cheaper  and  more  desirable. 
Mrs.  Ladd  had  herself  already  taken  lodgings 
in  Clarges  Street ;  a  great  many  Americans 
went  there  ;  it  was  very  convenient,  just  off  Pic- 
cadilly, but  expensive.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  re- 
vealed to  her  friend  that  she  intended  to  be 
economical  during  her  travels ;  she  was  always 


94  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

talking  about  economy,  though  she  rarely  prac- 
tised it. 

Two  days  before  reaching  Liverpool,  Mrs. 
Wayne  planned  with  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd  that 
they  should  go  down  to  London  together. 
Dorothea  was  prepared  for  the  arrangement, 
though  her  mother  had  said  nothing  to  her 
about  it.  She  was  none  the  less  vexed,  how- 
ever, when  she  found  herself  in  the  first-class 
compartment  with  the  curious  couple  from  New 
York. 

Of  course,  she  might  have  rebelled  and  in- 
sisted upon  taking  another  train  ;  but  she  knew 
that  this  would  disappoint  her  mother,  and  she 
submitted  with  as  much  apparent  amiability  as 
she  could  command.  During  the  first  hours 
of  the  journey  she  had  very  little  to  say ;  but 
her  silence  was  not  noticeable,  for  Mrs.  Ladd 
talked  incessantly,  reminiscing  with  regard  to 
previous  journeys  she  had  taken  between  Liv- 
erpool and  London,  pointing  out  places  of  inter- 
est on  the  way,  and  giving  Mrs.  Wayne  volu- 
minous instructions  with  reference  to  her  life  in 
London,  the  feeing  system,  the  management  of 
servants,  the  paying  of  cabmen,  and  a  score  of 
other  details.  Dorothea  wondered  why  Mrs. 
Ladd  had  not  spoken  of  these  things  during  the 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  95 

conferences  with  her  mother  on  the  ship.  Fol- 
lett  Ladd  lapsed  into  the  sullen  silence  which 
he  always  displayed  when  obliged  to  endure  his 
wife's  loquacity.  Sometimes,  when  the  rattling 
of  the  train  prohibited  normal  conversation, 
Mrs.  Ladd's  voice  would  rise  to  a  shriek,  and 
Mrs.  Wayne  would  shriek  back  an  incoherent 
reply.  Then  the  disgust  in  Ladd's  face  would 
become  so  amusing  that  Dorothea  could  hardly 
keep  from  laughing. 

After  a  time,  however,  she  tried  to  divert 
herself  from  the  talk  and  to  become  absorbed  in 
the  landscape.  The  English  country  seemed  to 
her  quite  as  lovely  as  she  had  hoped  to  find  it ; 
the  deep  green  of  the  foliage  and  of  the  grass, 
the  quaint  thatched  cottages,  and  the  small,  ivy- 
clad  stone  houses,  all  delighted  her.  The  fields 
that  seemed  to  rush  past  her  were  brilliant  with 
poppies,  their  scarlet  petals  making  a  vivid  con- 
trast with  the  grass.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
known  it  all  in  another  life  or  in  dreams ;  she 
explained  this  by  the  descriptions  of  the  Eng- 
lish country  that  she  had  read  in  novels. 

It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock  when  the  train 
reached  London.  Follett  Ladd  and  his  wife  in- 
sisted upon  taking  their  friends  to  the  hotel 
before  going  to  their  lodgings. 


^6  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  We  can  get  a  four-wheeler  just  as  well  as 
not,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd,  "  and  it  won't  be  much 
out  of  our  way." 

So  they  were  soon  huddled  in  the  little  vehi- 
cle and  bowling  over  the  smooth  London  streets 
toward  the  Metropole.  Mrs.  Wayne  was  visi- 
bly excited  ;  her  eyes  blazed  ;  every  few  min- 
utes there  was  in  them  a  suggestion  of  tears. 
This  was  a  bad  sign,  and  Dorothea  felt  alarmed  ; 
she  also  experienced  the  curious  nervous  ten- 
sion that  one  feels  on  arriving  in  a  great  city  for 
the  first  time.  How  dreadful  it  would  be,  she 
thought,  if  her  mother  were  to  fall  ill  and  sink 
into  one  of  her  long  periods  of  physical  and 
mental  depression !  Of  course,  there  would  be 
a  reaction  after  the  voyage  and  from  the  ex- 
citement of  her  talks  with  Mrs.  Ladd. 

When  they  reached  the  hotel,  Mrs.  Ladd, 
who  had  been  screaming  during  the  whole  of 
the  ride,  had  several  parting  injunctions  to 
make  before  she  would  allow  the  invalid  to 
get  out. 

"  I'll  come  in  to-morrow  about  ten,"  she 
cried  at  the  end,  "  and  we'll  go  to  see  those 
lodgings  together.  Good-bye,  dear." 

She  kissed  Mrs.  Wayne  on  both  cheeks. 
With  Dorothea  she  merely  shook  hands,  and 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  97 

said  :  "  It  was  so  nice  to  have  you  on  the  ship  ! 
Good-bye.  I'll  see  you  to-morrow,  too,  per- 
haps." 

Mrs.  Wayne's  grief  at  parting  with  her 
friend  speedily  developed  into  irritation.  She 
had  no  appetite  for  dinner,  and,  as  Dorothea 
unpacked  one  of  the  trunks,  she  looked  on  and 
complained  of  the  way  her  dresses  had  been 
put  into  them.  Suddenly  she  burst  into  a  fit 
of  weeping.  In  this  Dorothea  recognised  a 
touch  of  her  mother's  old  weakness,  and,  in- 
stead of  asking  what  the  matter  was,  she 
quietly  undressed  her  and  put  her  to  bed. 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  come.  I  wish  I'd 
stayed  at  home.  I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars 
to  be  back  !  "  the  invalid  kept  moaning. 

She  was  like  a  child  in  her  grief,  and  Dor- 
othea treated  her  as  a  child.  The  crying, 
Dorothea  knew,  would  do  her  good  ;  but  for 
that  she  would  probably  not  have  slept  at  all, 
instead,  of  falling  to  sleep,  as  she  did,  before 
Dorothea  went  herself  to  bed.  The  invalid's 
face  looked  very  yellow  and  thin  as  it  lay  on 
the  pillow  in  the  big  bed.  Dorothea,  touched 
with  a  sudden  tenderness,  bent  and  kissed  it. 
Then  she  turned  out  the  light.  She  was  so 
miserable  that  she  could  have  cried,  too  ;  she 


98  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

did  not  realize,  however,  that,  like  her  mother, 
she  was  feeling  the  first  pangs  of  homesickness. 
Instead  of  yielding  to  her  feelings,  she  went  to 
bed  and  slept  soundly  till  seven  o'clock. 

When  she  awoke  she  heard  a  noise  in  the 
next  room.  Her  mother  must  be  up  and  bus- 
tling about.  So  she  was  not  going  to  be  ill, 
after  all.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Wayne,  after  her  sleep, 
seemed  quite  another  person  from  the  gaunt 
woman  in  the  bed  the  night  before.  She  was 
full  of  energy,  and  acted  as  if  she  were  about 
to  catch  a  train. 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  better,"  she  said,  when 
Dorothea  appeared  before  her.  "  I  don't  feel 
a  bit  tired  after  the  journey.  And  see  how 
lovely  it  is  !  It's  going  to  be  a  beautiful  day. 
I  don't  see  a  sign  of  fog." 

"  It  isn't  apt  to  be  foggy  here  in  summer, 
you  know,"  said  Dorothea,  with  a  smile. 
"  Why  did  you  get  up  so  early  ?  "  In  New 
York  her  mother  had  never  risen  before  nine 
at  the  earliest,  and  she  had  always  had  her 
breakfast  served  in  bed. 

"  Mrs.  Ladd  is  coming." 

"  But  not  till  ten  o'clock." 

"  Well,  I  have  a  lot  of  things  to  do  before 
then." 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  99 

It  was  nearly  half  past  ten  when  Mrs.  Ladd 
arrived  at  the  hotel.  She  seemed  even  more 
energetic  than  usual.  "  How  did  you  sleep  ?  " 
she  asked,  after  kissing  Mrs.  Wayne  and  shak- 
ing hands  with  Dorothea,  with  the  easy  famil- 
iarity of  an  old  friend.  "  And  how  well  you're 
looking  !  I  was  afraid  I  might  find  you  tired 
out  after  the  journey.  Our  lodgings  are  de- 
lightful. The  same  servants  are  there  that 
waited  on  us  ten  years  ago.  That's  one  great 
thing  about  the  English,  they  can  keep  serv- 
ants, but  some  of  them  complain  just  the 
same.  Mr.  Ladd  was  so  cross  this  morning ! 
He  never  can  get  enough  for  breakfast  in 
England,  he  says,  though  I  had  a  steak  cooked 
for  him  expressly." 

"  I'm  afraid  we  made  you  take  breakfast 
very  early,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne. 

"  Oh,  no.  We  never  breakfast  later  than 
nine.  Then  I  got  up  at  six  this  morning  to 
write  some  letters  and  send  some  cards  off.  I 
ought  to  have  written  to  the  Ledyards  and 
Lady  Downes  that  I  was  coming,  but  I  had 
so  much  to  do  before  I  left  New  York  that  I 
couldn't  manage  it.  Lady  Downes  will  be 
over  this  afternoon,  and  I  do  wish  you  would 
come  for  tea  and  meet  her,"  Mrs.  Ladd 


100 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


concluded,  with  a  nod  and  a  glance  at   Doro- 
thea. 

"  I'm  afraid  mother  will  be  too  tired  to  go 
out  in  the  afternoon  if  she  goes  this  morning." 

Dorothea  began  to  feel  alarmed  about  her 
mother.  Mrs.  Ladd's  London  campaign  threat- 
ened to  break  the  invalid  down  again. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  worry  about  me,  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Wayne,  who  had  acquired  an  independent 
manner  with  her  daughter  in  presence  of  the 
social  leader.  "  I  guess  I  shall  be  able  to  go. 
If  I'm  not,  Mrs.  Ladd  will  excuse  me." 

"  Of  course."  Mrs.  Ladd  glanced  at  Mrs. 
Wayne  and  then  at  Dorothea.  "  What  a  pretty 
frock!"  she  cried,  surveying  Dorothea's  cos- 
tume of  brown  cloth.  "  Turn  round  and  let 
me  see  the  back." 

"  Yes,  Meserve  made  it,"  Mrs.  Wayne  said 
proudly.  "  I  thought  he'd  suit  her  style." 

Mrs.  Ladd  thoughtfully  stroked  Dorothea's 
back.  "  Yes,  it's  a  perfect  fit.  I  should  have 
liked  the  waist  a  little  longer,  perhaps,  but 
it'll  do." 

An  expression  of  disappointment  darkened 
Mrs.  Wayne's  face.  This  frock  she  regarded 
as  a  triumph.  "  I  suppose  we  could  have  it 
altered  over  here,"  she  said  anxiously. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  IOI 

"  It  is  quite  good  enough  as  it  is,"  said 
Dorothea  coldly,  and  for  the  moment  Mrs. 
Ladd  was  silenced.  Dorothea  resented  the 
familiarity  of  the  social  leader  ;  she  was  taking 
altogether  too  much  for  granted. 

While  Mrs.  Wayne  was  adjusting  her  silk 
cape  to  her  shoulders  Mrs.  Ladd  paced  up  and 
down  in  the  room.  She  always  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  sit  still  unless  deep  in  conversation. 
When  she  could  not  talk  she  would  walk  ;  this 
habit  had  on  many  occasions  ruffled  her  hus- 
band's composure. 

"  There's  something  about  this  English  air," 
she  said  at  last,  when  Mrs.  Wayne  was  ready 
to  depart,  "  that  makes  me  intensely  nervous. 
At  home  the  atmosphere  exhilarates  you,  buoys 
you  up  ;  but  here  it  doesn't  give  you  the  least 
support." 

When  they  reached  the  street,  "  I  came  in  a 
four-wheeler,"  Mrs.  Ladd  went  on,  "  and  it's 
waiting  for  me.  I  prefer  a  hansom,  but  three 
of  us  couldn't  get  into  it  very  well.  Mande- 
ville  Place,"  she  cried  to  the  driver,  "  ninety- 
five." 

As  the  carriage  rolled  along  the  smooth 
pavement  Dorothea  felt  as  if  she  and  her 
mother  were  under  the  temporary  tutelage  of 


I02  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

an  exceedingly  domineering  guardian.  Yet 
she  appreciated  the  humour  of  the  situation, 
and  could  not  help  smiling.  Mrs.  Ladd  no- 
ticed the  smile,  and  misinterpreted  it  for  a  sign 
of  concession. 

Mandeville  Place  they  found  to  be  a  short 
street  with  very  dark  stone  houses  on  either 
side.  "  It  looks  a  little  dull,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd, 
noticing  an  expression  of  disappointment  in 
Mrs.  Wayne's  face,  "  but  it's  very  nice.  Lady 
Marmsworth  lives  over  there.  She's  a  great 
leader  in  the  smart  set.  I  do  hope  that  Wood 
is  here  still,"  she  added  as  she  rang  the  bell. 
"  The  Snells  liked  him  so  much !  He's  the 
butler,  you  know,  and  he  looks  after  the  rooms 
and  provides  the  food.  He's  really  the  best 
servant  I  ever  saw.  The  Snells  tried  to  get 
him  to  go  back  with  them,  but  his  wife 
wouldn't  go.  His  wife  does  the  cooking,  and 
I  can  recommend  her.  I've  never  had  better 
dinners  in  London  than  the  Snells  used  to 
give  here.  Oh,  I'm  sure—  How  do  you  do, 
Wood  ?  I  was  just  wondering  if  you  were 
here." 

A  tall,  thin  young  man  with  a  smooth  face 
was  bowing  and  smiling  obsequiously  at  the 
open  door. 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


103 


"  It's  Mrs.  Ladd,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  I've  brought  some  friends  of 
mine  to  look  at  your  rooms.  I  hope  they 
aren't  taken." 

By  the  time  she  had  finished  this  speech 
Mrs.  Ladd  was  in  the  hall.  Mrs.  Wayne  and 
Dorothea  walked  meekly  behind.  Wood  con- 
tinued to  bow  and  smile  in  front  of  them. 

"  The  gentleman  that  had  the  two  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor  went  away  the  day  before 
yesterday,"  he  said.  "  Those  are  the  only 
rooms  we  have  left." 

"  Then  the  Snells'  rooms  are  taken  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  Russian  gentleman  has  them." 

"  Aren't  there  any  ladies  in  the  house  ? " 
Mrs.  Wayne  inquired  nervously. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Wood  replied  in  his  soft  voice. 
"  There's  an  English  lady  and  her  two  daugh- 
ters. They're  up  for  the  season  from  the 
country.  Then  there's  another  family,  a  Span- 
ish gentleman  and  his  wife,  on  the  top  floor." 

"  Well,  let  us  see  the  rooms,  Wood,"  said 
Mrs.  Ladd. 

"  Certainly,  ma'am." 

Wood  opened  the  first  door  at  his  left  and 
led  the  ladies  into  a  large  room  that  looked 
into  the  street.  It  was  handsomely  furnished 


I04  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

with  heavy  old-fashioned  carved  mahogany, 
and  with  an  abundance  of  old  prints  and  of 
china  plates  on  the  walls.  The  window  seats 
were  richly  upholstered,  and  against  the  op- 
posite wall  towered  an  enormous  mahogany 
sideboard  that  gleamed  with  glass  and  china. 
In  the  centre  stood  a  table,  draped  with  a  soft, 
thick,  red  cloth. 

Mrs.  Ladd  swept  the  room  with  her  sharp 
eyes.  "  It's  quite  as  pleasant  as  the  Snells' 
apartment,  Wood,"  she  said. 

"  Many  lodgers  prefers  this,"  said  the  func- 
tionary deprecatingly.  His  bad  grammar  gave 
Dorothea  a  shock  of  surprise,  he  seemed  such 
a  perfect  production,  with  the  politeness  and 
reserve  of  a  Chesterfield.  He  put  his  hand 
over  his  mouth,  and  Dorothea  expected  to 
hear  him  cough,  but,  instead,  he  added  very 
gently,  "  It's  more  cheerful  when  there's  a 
fire." 

"  A  fire  in  June  !  "  Mrs.  Wayne  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd.  "  You  must 
expect  to  have  a  fire  almost  every  day  here — 
it's  so  damp.  How  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  it  would  be  much  better  than  the 
hotel,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne,  without  committing 
herself. 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


105 


"  Oh,  but  we  must  see  the  bedrooms  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Ladd. 

Wood  led  the  way  into  the  rear  of  the  apart- 
ment, where  they  found  two  small,  well 
lighted,  and  comfortably  furnished  rooms.  Mrs. 
Ladd  promptly  began  to  knead  with  the  back 
of  her  left  hand  the  first  bed  they  saw.  "  It 
seems  all  right.  The  Snells  liked  the  beds 
very  much.  By  the  way,  Wood,  where  are 
the  Snells  now  ?  Have  they  been  here  since 
last  year  ?  " 

"They're  in  France  now — in  the  south," 
Wood  replied.  "  They  wrote  to  Mrs.  Wood 
and  said  they  weren't  coming  for  the  season 
this  year." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd,  absent-mindedly, 
as  if  she  had  dismissed  all  thought  of  the  Snells 
before  her  question  was  answered.  "  You  see," 
she  went  on,  turning  to  Mrs.  Wayne,  "  you 
wouldn't  be  bothered  at  all  about  cooking  here. 
The  kitchen  is  downstairs,  and  the  food  would 
be  sent  up."  Then,  as  they  returned  to  the 
large  room,  "What's  the  price,  Wood?"  she 
asked,  in  her  brisk  manner. 

"  Three  guineas  a  week  for  the  rooms  and 
service,"  Wood  replied,  and  Dorothea  fancied 
that  she  saw  him  flush. 


I06  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Why,  we  pay  almost  as  much  as  that  a  day 
for  our  rooms  at  the  hotel,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne, 
exaggerating  in  her  zeal. 

"  Yes,  it's  very  reasonable,"  Mrs.  Ladd 
agreed.  "  It  won't  cost  you  much  more  than 
that  for  the  food.  You  can  tell  Wood  what 
you  want,  and  he'll  do  the  ordering  for  you." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  very  particular,"  said  Mrs. 
Wayne,  and  Dorothea  tried  not  to  smile. 
"  What  do  you  think,  dear?  " 

"  But  shall  we  be  in  London  long  enough  to 
take  lodgings,  mother?" 

"  We'll  be  here  a  couple  of  weeks,  anyway. 
And  I'd  much  rather  be  here  than  in  the  hotel." 

Dorothea  thought  of  her  mother's  eagerness 
to  discover  acquaintances  on  the  ship  at  the 
very  beginning  of  their  travels,  and  of  her  prob- 
able loneliness  in  the  lodgings ;  but  she  re- 
plied :  "  Do  just  as  you  please,  mother.  I'm 
willing  to  come  here  if  you  like." 

"  Could  we  come  to-day  ? "  Mrs.  Wayne 
asked  eagerly. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Ladd. 

"  I'll  have  a  fire  if  the  ladies  wish,"  said 
Wood. 

"  Oh,  it's  too  pleasant  for  a  fire."  Mrs. 
Wayne  was  all  excitement.  She  had  not  hoped 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  107 

that  the  business  could  be  arranged  so  quickly. 
Dorothea,  on  the  contrary,  felt  depressed  and 
nervous.  Mrs.  Ladd's  scheming  had  already 
begun  to  have  definite  results.  She  did  not 
want  to  stay  in  London  in  summer ;  she  would 
have  preferred  the  country ;  now  her  mother 
was  committing  herself  to  the  city  for  at  least  a 
fortnight.  She  tried  to  console  herself,  how- 
ever, with  the  thought  that  if  her  mother  fell  ill 
it  would  be  much  better  for  her  to  be  in  lodg- 
ings than  in  the  hotel. 

Mrs.  Ladd  quickly  made  arrangements  for 
the  installation  of  her  friends.  Wood  sum- 
moned  his  wife,  a  short,  comely  woman  with  red 
cheeks,  not  so  fine  a  type  as  her  husband,  but, 
like  him,  eager  to  serve.  Mrs.  Ladd  addressed 
her  as  Martha,  and  Dorothea  was  prepared  to 
hear  the  social  leader  give  orders  for  the  even- 
ing meal.  Mrs.  Wayne,  however,  interposed, 
and  said  she  should  be  willing  to  let  Martha 
prepare  a  dinner  of  her  own  devising.  The 
ladies  presently  turned  to  the  doors,  Mrs.  Wayne 
with  a  little  sigh,  Mrs.  Ladd  with  the  air  of  hav- 
ing accomplished  a  good  day's  work,  Dorothea 
without  a  change  of  countenance  to  indicate  her 
annoyance. 

Mrs.  Ladd  declined  the  invitation  for  dinner 


108  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

that  Mrs.  Wayne  extended  to  her,  and  after 
leaving  the  ladies  at  the  hotel,  she  started  for 
Clarges  Street.  "  Lady  Downes  v/ill  look  in 
this  afternoon,"  she  said  at  parting,  "  and  possi- 
bly one  or  two  others.  I'll  call  to-morrow  about 
tea  time.  Of  course,  you'll  have  afternoon  tea 
while  you're  here.  Wood  will  see  to  that,"  she 
laughed,  as  she  leaned  out  of  the  carriage  window. 

The  rest  of  the  day  Dorothea  spent  in  the 
agitation  of  moving  again.  She  made  her  mother 
go  to  bed  directly  after  luncheon  for  her  daily 
nap,  and  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Wayne,  tired  out  by 
the  morning's  experience,  woke  from  her  sleep, 
it  was  time  to  repair  to  Mandeville  Place. 

When  they  arrived  there,  at  six  o'clock, 
though  it  was  still  light,  they  found  the  curtains 
drawn,  the  drawing  room  illuminated,  the  table 
bright  with  a  white  damask  cloth  and  lighted 
candles.  Wood  had  done  his  best  to  make' the 
place  inviting. 

Mrs.  Wayne's  face  beamed.  "  How  lovely !  " 
she  exclaimed,  and,  in  spite  of  herself,  Dorothea 
was  pleased. 

Wood  bowed  and  smiled  and  looked  very 
happy. 

"  Dinner  will  be  served  at  half  past  seven," 
he  said,  obsequiously. 


IX. 

DOROTHEA  and  her  mother  found  their  lodg- 
ings even  more  attractive  than  Mrs.  Ladd  had 
represented  them  to  be.  Wood  and  his  wife 
displayed  a  zeal  for  service  that  had  never  been 
equalled  in  their  American  experience.  More- 
over Mrs.  Wood  developed  a  genius  for  remi- 
niscence and  companionship  that  delighted  the 
widow,  and  relieved  Dorothea's  apprehension 
that  her  mother  would  find  the  loneliness  of 
lodgings  intolerable. 

After  the  first  dinner,  Mrs.  Wood,  while  re- 
moving the  tablecloth,  revealed  some  of  the 
treasures  of  her  mind.  Before  her  marriage 
she  had  lived  in  many  a  noble  family,  and  she 
had  made  her  own  observations  of  the  British 
aristocracy.  Dorothea  saw  that  she  need  not 
fear  to  leave  her  parent  alone  with  this  store- 
house of  personal  information.  She  had  feared 
that  her  mother's  dislike  to  sight-seeing  might 
prevent  her  from  going  about  as  she  had  hoped 


109 


IIO  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

to  do,  from  taking  trips  to  the  National  Gallery, 
the  Tower,  the  British  Museum,  and  other 
places  in  London  that  her  reading  had  made 
her  familiar  with.  Now,  however,  Mrs.  Wood's 
loquacity  would  more  than  compensate  her 
mother  for  her  own  absences  from  the  lodgings. 

The  next  morning,  to  her  daughter's  sur- 
prise, Mrs.  Wayne  was  quite  as  energetic  as 
she  had  been  the  day  before.  After  breakfast 
she  at  once  turned  her  attention  to  the  con- 
sideration of  domestic  arrangements.  "  I  think 
I  shall  order  the  meals,  after  all,"  she  said.  "  It 
seems  like  housekeeping  again.  And  it's  so 
long  since  I've  kept  house  I  shall  like  the 
novelty  of  it.  Besides,  we  must  ask  the  Ladds 
to  dinner,"  she  added,  rather  inconsequently. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  us  to  wait  till 
the  Ladds  ask  us  to  dinner  ? "  said  Dorothea, 
taking  her  box  of  paints  from  one  of  the  trunks 
that  stood  in  the  passageway. 

Mrs.  Wayne  started  to  say  something,  but 
she  did  not  say  it.  A  moment  later,  however, 
she  replied,  "  Oh,  I  guess  they'll  ask  us  before 
.very  long." 

Dorothea's  eyes  wandered  vaguely  around 
the  room.  "  It's  a  pity  the  light  is  so  poor 
here.  This  isn't  a  good  place  to  work  in." 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  ril 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  you'd  give  that  up  for  a 
while.  I  should  think  you'd  want  to  take  a 
rest." 

Dorothea  did  not  reply,  and  when,  a  mo- 
ment later,  her  mother  left  the  room,  she 
looked  over  some  half-finished  canvases  she 
had  brought  with  her.  One  of  them,  begun  in 
Oswego,  reminded  her  of  Aleck  French,  and 
now,  as'  she  started  to  paint,  her  mind  went 
back  to  him.  She  wondered  if  he  were  in 
London.  She  would  like  to  see  him  again ; 
her  feeling  for  him  now  was  wholly  friendly  ; 
she  thought  of  him  as  one  who  had  made  a 
great  mistake,  which  had  almost  glorified  with 
pity  her  liking  for  him.  But  London  was  a  very 
big  place,  and  even  if  he  were  in  the  city  she 
would  probably  not  meet  him.  If  any  of  her 
old  Oswego  friends  were  in  London  she  would 
have  a  chance  of  meeting  him  at  their  hotels 
and  lodgings ;  but  none  of  them  had  come 
abroad,  with  the  exception  of  the  Watsons,  who 
were  travelling  through  Normandy. 

After  luncheon  Dorothea  suggested  to  her 
mother  that  they  go  to  the  National  Gallery 
for  an  hour  or  two ;  but  life  in  New  York 
with  the  Misses  Marbury  had  inspired  Mrs. 
Wayne  with  a  hatred  of  all  art  galleries.  "  It 


H2  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

would  just  tire  me  to  death  to  walk  through 
that  place,"  she  said.  "  Besides,  Mrs.  Ladd  is 
coming-  for  tea.  I  don't  think  it's  very  nice  of 
you  to  go  out  when  you  know  that." 

"  I  shall  be  back  before  she  comes." 

For  years  Dorothea  had  looked  forward  to 
seeing  in  the  National  Gallery  the  Turners, 
whose  praises  she  had  read  in  Ruskin.  She 
secretly  resolved  not  to  return  till  five  o'clock, 
partly  to  allow  her  mother  to  have  a  tete-a-tete 
with  the  social  leader,  chiefly  to  shorten  a 
disagreeable  meeting.  As  she  rang  for  Wood 
to  call  a  cab,  "  I  don't  think  it's  decent  for  a 
girl  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  London 
alone,"  said  her  mother,  one  hand  clutching  at 
the  other. 

"  But  I  go  about  in  New  York  alone,"  Doro- 
thea laughed  as  she  put  on  her  hat. 

"  Well,  it's  a  different  thing  in  New  York. 
Mrs.  Ladd " 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  keep  bringing  up 
Mrs.  Ladd,  mother.  You  forget  that  I'm 
nearly  twenty-nine  years  old  and  quite  capable 
of  taking  care  of  myself." 

The  widow  turned  away  despairingly,  and 
a  few  moments  later  Dorothea  left  the  house 
and  entered  the  cab  that  had  rolled  up  to  the 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  n$ 

curbstone.  Then  she  had  one  of  those  mo- 
ments of  misery  that  differences  with  her 
mother  always  caused  her.  At  these  times 
she  was  severe  with  herself  for  her  lack  of 
forbearance.  Now  she  even  thought  of  going 
back  and  passing  the  afternoon  in  the  lodg- 
ings ;  but  this,  she  knew,  would  simply  make 
her  mother  more  peevish.  It  was  not  until 
the  cab  had  entered  Regent  Circus  and  her 
mind  was  diverted  by  the  crowds  of  people 
in  the  streets  and  by  the  variegated  shop 
windows  that  she  recovered  her  spirits. 

When  she  reached  the  Gallery  she  asked  at 
once  for  the  Turner  room.  There  she  had  a 
shock  of  disappointment.  Viewed  collectively, 
the  huge  canvases  seemed  to  her  wild  and 
meaningless.  Yet  Aleck  French,  she  remem- 
bered, after  his  first  visit  in  London,  had 
written  to  her  enthusiastically  in  praise  of 
them.  He  had  called  them  fantastic  and  ideal, 
but  wonderful  in  colouring  and  atmosphere. 
She  resolved  to  study  them  one  by  one,  and 
for  an  hour  she  sat  in  the  room  examining  a 
few  of  them  in  detail.  After  a  time  she  be- 
gan to  feel  their  beauty  ;  they  seemed  to  her 
the  expression  of  a  poet's  outlook  on  life. 
They  were  not  what  she  herself  saw,  and  they 


H4  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

did  not  bear  the  test  of  what  Aleck  French 
had  taught  her  to  regard  as  the  best  art ;  but 
in  her  admiration  she  forgot  to  judge  them  by 
rule ;  she  forgot  even  to  think  of  Aleck  French 
at  all,  and  she  presently  yielded  to  their  spell. 
She  did  not  think  of  anything  else  until  she 
glanced  up  and  saw  French  standing  before 
her. 

The  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  and  for  a 
moment  she  looked  at  him  without  speaking. 
Then,  "  Why,  Aleck !  "  she  said,  rising  from  her 
seat  and  offering  her  hand  impulsively. 

As  he  stood  there  he  seemed  very  big  and 
awkward  and  homely.  His  face  was  bronzed  as 
if  he  had  been  much  in  the  sun,  and  his  heavy 
chin  was  covered  with  a  thin  brown  beard.  He 
took  her  hand  and  showed  his  big  white  teeth 
as  he  looked  down  on  her  with  an  almost  apolo- 
getic smile. 

"  I  thought  I  should  meet  you  here,"  he 
said. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  London." 

"  I've  been  here  a  couple  of  weeks.  I  knew 
you  were  here,  or  were  coming." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Miss  Flagler  wrote  me,"  he  replied,  betray- 
ing a  little  embarrassment  in  his  face. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  115 

"Oh!" 

"  She  wrote  me  some  time  ago ;  she  didn't 
know  then  when  you  were  coming.  I  got  a 
note  from  her  yesterday  saying  you  had  sailed. 
But  she  didn't  give  your  address." 

"  No,  I  didn't  send  it  to  her." 

"  Let's  sit  down  ;  then  you  won't  get  tired." 

They  took  seats  on  the  velvet  divan  where 
Dorothea  had  been  sitting,  and  Aleck  French 
went  on : 

"  I  knew  this  would  be  one  of  the  first  places 
you'd  come  to.  I  came  here  yesterday.  I 
didn't  find  you  in  the  morning ;  so  I  came  again 
in  the  afternoon." 

Dorothea  did  not  know  what  to  say  in 
acknowledgment  of  this  speech.  He  flushed 
again  and  smiled,  and  went  on  with  a  suggestion 
of  his  old  sheepish  manner  with  her :  "  I  came 
this  morning,  too." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face.  "That  was 
very  kind  of  you,  Aleck.  I  am  really  glad  to 
see  you." 

She  had  not  intended  to  be  patronizing ;  but 
she  realized  as  she  spoke  that  this  was  the  tone 
she  was  taking  with  him.  He  did  not  appear 
to  notice  it,  however.  "How  is  your  mother?" 
he  said.  "  I  suppose  she's  with  you." 


H6  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

For  several  moments  they  talked  about  Mrs. 
Wayne  and  about  people  in  Osvvego.  Then 
French  spoke  about  Dorothea's  work  and  said 
he'd  heard  she  was  making  wonderful  progress. 
She  knew  that  he  wanted  to  speak  of  his  mar- 
riage and  of  his  treatment  ef  her,  but  was  afraid 
to  begin,  and  he  knew  that  she  knew  it.  He 
did  not  know,  however,  that,  though  waiting 
for  him  to  speak,  she  was  helping  him  to  fence 
away  from  the  subject.  She  could  see  plainly 
that  he  was  suffering  in  his  inability  to  pour  out 
the  contrition  that  was  shining  in  his  eyes.  He 
seemed  to  her  as  he  sat  there  a  great  baby,  and 
all  trace  of  resentment  against  him  vanished 
from  her  mind.  Her  old  liking  for  him  came 
back ;  in  spite  of  his  faults,  in  spite  of  his  du- 
plicity with  her,  she  still  believed  him  to  be  one 
of  the  most  honest  men  she  had  ever  known. 

He  lingered  for  a  long  time  on  the  subject 
of  her  work,  questioning  her  with  regard  to 
Wentworth's  instruction  and  her  studies  at  the 
League.  Then  he  spoke  of  his  own  pictures, 
of  those  he  had  done  during  the  past  year.  He 
was  on  a  big  one  now — the  Battle  of  Austerlitz. 
He  didn't  like  the  subject,  of  course ;  it  was  out 
of  his  line  ;  but  a  rich  American  had  offered  him 
a  lot  of  money  to  do  it.  He  talked  on  till  Doro- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  ny 

thea  told  him  she  must  go ;  she  had  promised 
to  return  home  before  five  o'clock. 

"  I'll  go  with  you  if  you'll  let  me.  I'll  call  a 
cab." 

"  I'd  rather  walk,"  she  said. 

"  Have  you  seen  much  here?"  he  asked,  sud- 
denly, as  if  he  had  just  realized  that  he  ought  to 
have  conducted  her  through  the  Gallery. 

"  I've  seen  some  of  the  Turners.  They  are 
enough  for  one  day.  I  don't  like  to  hurry 
through  a  gallery." 

"No,  of  course  not.  Your  impressions  get 
all  confused." 

"  I  shall  come  again — often,"  she  said. 

For  a  few  moments  as  they  walked  through 
Trafalgar  Square  in  the  direction  of  Piccadilly 
Circus  neither  spoke.  Dorothea  knew  that  he 
was  about  to  begin  on  the  subject  that  they  had 
both  avoided.  As  they  were  passing  the  Hay- 
market  Theatre  he  said : 

"  I  suppose  you  know  about  my  trouble  with 
my  wife,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Miss  Flagler  told  me.  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
about  it." 

"It  was  just  what  I  deserved."  They 
walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few  steps.  "  I've 
been  punished  for  the  way  I  acted  with  you," 


US  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

he  continued.  "  I  haven't  a  word  to  say  for  my- 
self— there  isn't  anything  to  be  said.  But  I'd 
like  to  have  you  know  that  I — that  I  do  care." 

"  I've  understood  that,  Aleck,  all  along.  I 
haven't  blamed  you." 

This  speech  was  not  exactly  true,  as  Doro- 
thea was  well  aware.  He  would  take  it,  how- 
ever, as  a  sign  that  she  had  forgiven  his  offence, 
and  was  willing  to  be  his  friend  again. 

"  I've  lived  in  Hell  ever  since.  God,  how 
I've  had  it  rubbed  in!  " 

She  turned  her  head  away.  After  a  moment 
she  said  again,  "  I'm  sorry,  Aleck." 

"  You  ought  not  to  be.  I  don't  deserve  any 
one's  pity.  I'm  just  getting  my  deserts." 

"  Where  is  your  wife  now  ?  " 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  laughed.  "  Heaven 
only  knows !  I  don't.  She  left  me  months 
ago.  They  said  I  left  her,  but  that  wasn't 
true." 

"Can't  you — can't  you "  She  stopped, 

for  she  felt  unable  to  put  her  thought  into 
words.  As  she  started  to  express  it  she  saw 
how  foolish  it  was. 

"  No,  it's  impossible.  You  can't  imagine 
the  kind  of  woman  she  is.  You  wouldn't  be 
yourself  if  you  could.  You  don't  know  any- 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 

thing  about  the —  Oh,  it's  too  vile  for  you  to 
think  about!  " 

They  didn't  speak  again  for  several  mo- 
ments. Then,  "  What  are  you  going  to  do, 
Aleck?  "  she  said. 

"  Going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Are  you  going  to  stay  in  Paris,  or 
are  you  going  back  to  America  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  go  back.  I've  had  enough 
of  Paris.  But  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to 
face  America  again.  I've  been  on  the  verge 
of  going  a  dozen  times.  There's  a  kind  of 
fascination  about  the  life  over  here." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  better  for  you 
to  go  back." 

"  To  Oswego  ?  " 

"No;  to  New  York." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  might  go  to  New  York. 
Perhaps  I  shall.  I'll  think  about  it,  anyway. 
But  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  meeting  father 
again." 

"  How  is  your  father,  Aleck  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  heard  from  him  since  I  told  him 
about  my  marriage — except  once.  I  sha'n't 
forget  that  letter  very  soon.  Father  always 
thought  a  good  deal  of  you,  you  know  ;  but 
he — he  didn't " 


120  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  How  big  and  crowded  London  is !  "  Dor- 
othea interrupted  quickly.  "  I  was  afraid  I 
should  be  disappointed  in  it,  but  it's  more 
wonderful  than  I  thought  it  could  be." 

He  descended  from  his  heroics. 

"  It  seems  like  a  great,  gloomy  wilderness 
to  me,"  he  said.  "  Still,  there  are  some  good 
spots  in  it.  It's  rather  fine  around  Piccadilly ; 
but  the  mixture  of  different  styles  of  architec- 
ture is  bad.  You  have  to  take  London  in  the 
mass  to  find  real  beauty.  All  the  beauty  dis- 
appears if  you  look  at  it  in  detail." 

Their  talk  returned  to  personal  matters,  and 
remained  on  safe  topics.  Dorothea  gave  her 
companion  an  account  of  some  of  her  experi- 
ences since  she  had  last  seen  him,  of  her  win- 
ter in  New  York,  and  of  her  voyage.  Her 
description  of  the  Follett  Ladds  made  him 
laugh.  He  had  never  heard  of  them  before, 
but  he  said  he  could  imagine  what  they  were 
like.  She  didn't  tell  him  about  Mrs.  Ladd's 
scheming  with  her  mother ;  if  he  had  been 
cleverer,  however,  he  might  have  surmised 
that  from  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Wayne. 
With  the  widow  he  had  long  been  on  terms 
of  jocular  familiarity ;  on  his  visits  at  her 
house  she  had  always  brightened  and  ap- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  12I 

peared  at  her  best.  He  knew,  however,  how 
she  tried  Dorothea,  and  he  surmised  that  she 
was  as  peevish  as  ever.  He  was  disappointed 
at  finding-  Dorothea  so  little  changed.  She 
had  always  seemed  remote  to  him,  and  now  he 
felt  that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  her  re- 
moteness had  become  absolute.  As  he  walked 
and  talked  with  her,  he  thought  with  a  keener 
sense  of  all  he  had  missed  by  his  folly.  She 
appeared  so  fine,  so  serene,  so  admirably  ad- 
justed !  He  admired  her  all  the  more  for  the 
calm  way  in  which  she  had  placed  him  on  a 
friendly  basis  with  her  again.  He  said  to  him- 
self that  such  a  woman  was  created,  not  merely 
to  be  loved,  but  worshipped.  This  made  him 
wonder  if  a  worshipper  had  taken  his  old 
place,  and  when  they  reached  the  door  of  the 
lodgings  he  asked  boldly  : 

"  Are  you  engaged  ?  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  smiled. 
"  No,"  she  replied.  "  Mother  is  afraid  I  shall 
never  get  married." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother,"  he  said, 
flushing. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  and  see  her  now  ? 
Mrs.  Ladd  is  probably  gone.  It  must  be  after 
five.  I  had  forgotten  about  her." 


122  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Thank  you — some  other  time.  Perhaps 
you'd  better  prepare  her,"  he  added  with  a 
smile. 

"  She  would  be  glad  to  see  you." 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  "  And  are  you  glad 
to  see  me  ? "  he  said,  looking  down  into  her 
face. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you'll  let  me  be  your  friend  again  ?  " 

She  extended  her  hand.    "  Certainly,  Aleck." 

For  a  moment  he  held  her  hand. 

"  You  are  too  good  to  me,  Dorothea."  he 
said. 


X. 

WHEN  Dorothea  entered  the  lodgings  her 
mother  confronted  her. 

"  So  that's  why  you  were  so  eager  to  come 
over  here  !  "  she  cried,  her  eyes  bright  with 
anger. 

For  a  moment  Dorothea  did  not  understand 
her  mother's  words.  Then,  when  she  saw  their 
meaning,  her  face  turned  scarlet ;  she  was  too 
indignant  to  reply.  As  she  walked  across  the 
room,  her  mother  turned  to  resume  the  attack. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you're  ashamed  to  speak." 

"  If  you'll  explain  what  you  mean,  mother,  I 
will  speak." 

"  Explain  what  I  mean  ?  You  know  well 
enough  what  I  mean.  Going  off  in  a  strange 
city  and  having  clandestine  meetings  with  an- 
other woman's  husband  ! " 

"  If  you  mean  that  I've  had  a  clandestine 
meeting  with  Aleck  French,  mother,  you  are 
very  much  mistaken.  I  didn't  know  he  was  in 

123 


124 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


the  city  till  I  met  him  in  the  National  Gal- 
lery." 

Mrs.  Wayne  was  silenced.  If  she  had 
stopped  to  think,  she  would  have  seen  that  her 
suspicion  was  ridiculous,  and  she  might  not  have 
uttered  it ;  but  it  was  her  habit  to  think  after 
she  spoke,  if  she  thought  at  all.  Now  Doro- 
thea's plain  statement  convinced  her  that  she 
had  been  mistaken.  To  her  knowledge  her 
daughter  had  never  told  her  a  deliberate 
lie.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was  to  say, 
"  What  is  Aleck  French  doing  in  London, 
anyway?  " 

"  I  didn't  ask  him." 

"  If  you  weren't  ashamed  of  being  seen  on 
the  street  with  him,  why  didn't  you  bring  him 
in?" 

"  He  thought  Mrs.  Ladd  was  here,  and  he 
said  he'd  come  some  other  time." 

"  Mrs.  Ladd's  been  gone  a  half  an  hour. 
Nice  thing  for  you  to  walk  off,  when  you  knew 
she  was  coming  !  " 

"  I  thought  I  should  find  her  here,"  said 
Dorothea,  in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

"  She  asked  us  to  dinner  to-morrow  night," 
Mrs.  Wayne  went  on,  subsiding. 

"And  did  you  say  you'd  go?" 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  I25 

"  Of  course  I  did.  Lady  Dowries  and  her 
son  are  to  be  there  to  meet  us." 

Dorothea  thoughtfully  stuck  her  hat-pin  in 
her  hat  and  then  put  the  hat  carefully  away. 

"  Mrs.  Ladd  says  the  Downes  are  one  of  the 
best  families  in  England." 

"  Are  they  ?  " 

Dorothea  took  her  seat  at  the  desk  in  the 
corner  of  the  room  and  prepared  to  write  a 
note. 

"  They  have  a  lovely  place  twenty-five  miles 
out  of  London.  Mrs.  Ladd  visits  them  every 
year." 

Dorothea  began  to  write. 

"  The  son  is  very  handsome,  Mrs.  Ladd  says. 
He's  the  only  child.  He  has  the  estate  now. 
His  father  died  five  years  ago." 

As  Dorothea  continued  writing,  Mrs.  Wayne 
began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  rear- 
ranging the  furniture  and  bits  of  bric-b-brac. 

Dorothea  knew  that  her  mother's  restless- 
ness was  due  to  a  desire  to  discuss  the  coming 
dinner;  but  she  was  not  herself  in  the  mood  ;  if 
she  did  discuss  it  she  felt  that  she  would  betray 
her  irritation  at  being  obliged  to  attend  it, 
and  in  this  way  aggravate  her  mother  again. 

Mrs.  Wayne  presently  took  a  seat  by  the 


I26  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

empty  fireplace  and  folded  her  hands  in  her 
lap. 

"  Has  Aleck  French  gone  back  to  his  wife  ?  " 
she  asked  suddenly. 

"  No,"  Dorothea  replied,  without  look- 
ing up. 

"  Is  he  going  to  get  a  divorce?" 

"  I  don't  know."  A  moment  later  Dorothea 
raised  her  head.  "  I  think  I'll  ask  him  for 
dinner  for  Thursday  night." 

"  Ask  him  for  dinner !  "  Then,  after  consid- 
ering the  proposition,  Mrs.  Wayne  went  on  in 
another  tone :  "  Well,  you  may  ask  him  if  you 
want  to — though,  for  my  part— 

"  You  used  to  like  Aleck,  mother,"  said 
Dorothea,  taking  a  fresh  sheet  of  paper. 

"  I  liked  him  before  he  was  spoiled,"  Mrs. 
Wayne  snapped. 

"  He  seems  to  be  much  the  same  as  ever, 
only  a  little  more  serious,  perhaps." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  he  would  be  serious." 

Mrs.  Wayne  looked  curiously  at  her  daugh- 
ter, as  she  often  did  when  she  thought  she  was 
not  herself  observed. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  get  your  disposi- 
tion," she  said.  "  You  certainly  didn't  get  it 
from  me." 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  I2/ 

In  her  note  to  Aleck  French,  Dorothea  said 
that  she  should  not  be  able  to  go  to  the  Na- 
tional Gallery  the  next  day  ;  she  had  some  shop- 
ping- to  do  with  her  mother ;  on  Thursday, 
though,  he  might  meet  her  at  the  Gallery,  and 
then  come  home  with  her  to  dinner.  She  wrote 
just  as  she  might  have  written  in  the  old  Os- 
wego  days,  before  she  thought  of  becoming  en- 
gaged to  him.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that 
there  could  be  anything  improper  in  her  meet- 
ing him.  He  must  be  lonely  in  London ;  he 
knew  few  people  there,  and  he  had  always 
hated  to  be  alone.  It  seemed  to  her  that  this 
was  the  time  when  she  ought  to  be  most  kind  to 
him.  Perhaps,  if  she  had  analyzed  her  feelings, 
she  would  have  discovered  that  her  frank  over- 
tures of  friendship  were  due  partly  to  a  desire 
to  let  him  see  how  little  she  cared  for  his  breach 
of  faith.  But  she  was  too  healthy  to  indulge 
much  in  introspection,  and  she  wasted  little 
time  in  weighing  motives. 

A  large  part  of  the  next  day  was  spent  by 
Mrs.  Wayne  in  the  rooms  of  a  fashionable  dress- 
maker, who  had  undertaken  to  transform  one  of 
her  gowns  into  a  dinner  dress.  Mrs.  Wayne 
had  not  worn  a  low-necked  gown  for  several 
years,  and,  as  she  caught  cold  from  the  most 


I28  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

trivial  causes,  Dorothea  was  seriously  con- 
cerned about  the  effect  on  her  mother's  health. 

The  gown,  which  had  been  promised  for 
four  o'clock,  did  not  reach  the  lodgings  till 
nearly  six ;  so  during  the  two  hours  preceding 
its  arrival  Mrs.  Wayne  was  in  a  fever.  Doro- 
thea had  difficulty  in  keeping  her  own  temper, 
in  at  least  not  saying  something  disagreeable 
about  Mrs.  Ladd.  When,  at  seven  o'clock,  she 
had  put  her  mother  into  a  cab  and  squeezed 
herself  in,  she  felt  a  delicious  sense  of  relief. 
They  would  at  least  be  in  time ! 

They  proved  to  be  ten  minutes  ahead  of 
the  time  ;  when  they  reached  the  lodgings  in 
Clarges  Street,  they  found  that  the  other  guests 
had  not  yet  arrived.  Mrs.  Ladd,  in  a  gorgeous 
costume  of  Nile  green,  heavily  trimmed  with 
black  lace,  received  them  at  the  door  of  her 
drawing  room,  which  also  served  as  a  dining 
room. 

"  It's  so  good  of  you  to  come,"  she  said 
effusively,  kissing  Dorothea  for  the  first  time, 
after  welcoming  her  mother.  "  We're  going  to 
be  very  informal,  you  know.  It  was  the  great- 
est piece  of  luck — my  finding  the  Dovvnes  here. 
They're  going  away  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  They 
rarely  stay  in  London  after  June." 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  I2p 

Then,  when  Dorothea  had  removed  her 
wraps,  she  cried  : 

"  How  stunning-  you  are,  dear !  Where  did 
you  get  that  lovely  frock?  It  looks  like  one  of 
Lefevre's.  Those  violets  just  suit  you.  I  told 
Sir  Hubert  that  violet  was  your  colour." 

Mrs.  Ladd  had  not  overpraised  Dorothea's 
appearance.  Mrs.  Wayne  knew  that  her 
daughter  had  never  looked  finer.  Her  full  fig- 
ure, her  firm  white  neck,  and  the  classic  regu- 
larity of  her  features  made  her  seem,  the  widow 
said  to  herself,  almost  imperial.  At  this  mo- 
ment she  should  be  treading  that  crimson  carpet 
in  her  white  satin  slippers. 

Mrs.  Wayne's  nervousness  was  soothed  by 
the  thought  that  her  campaign  was  developing 
brilliantly.  The  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  with  its  linen  and  silver  and  gleaming 
cut  glass,  between  palms  and  flowers  and 
lighted  candelabra,  suggested  the  entrance 
bower  to  the  fairyland  where  her  daughter  was 
destined  to  dwell. 

Lady  Downes  and  her  son  were  late ;  so 
Mrs.  Wayne  had  plenty  of  time  to  prepare  her- 
self for  meeting  them.  Lady  Downes  proved 
to  be  a  small,  mild-looking  woman  of  sixty,  with 
white  hair  and  a  complexion  of  almost  waxlike 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

pallor,  broken  here  and  there  by  little  spots  of 
pink  which  Mrs.  Wayne's  sharp  eyes  discovered 
not  to  be  due  to  art.  Her  son  towered  beside 
her;  he  was  more  than  six  feet  tall,  and  his 
broad  shoulders  stooped  slightly ;  his  nose  was 
large,  and  his  lips  showed  red  under  his  heavy 
brown  mustache.  His  hair,  just  turning  gray, 
was  close-cropped  and  thin,  and  his  cheeks  had 
in  them  fine  red  veins.  To  Dorothea  he  seemed 
a  perfect  type  of  the  well-bred,  well-fed,  con- 
tented Englishman.  He  stood  awkwardly  at  the 
doorway,  with  an  apologetic  smile  on  his  face,  as 
his  mother  poured  out  her  regrets  at  being  so  late. 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself?"  cried  Mrs.  Ladd,  offering  him  her 
hand  and  staring  up  into  his  face.  "  Where's 
your  beard  ? " 

"  I  left  it  in  Bath  last  year,"  he  replied,  with 
a  smile. 

"  It  was  getting  gray  and  I  made  him  take 
it  off,"  Lady  Downes  interposed  as  she  removed 
her  wraps. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  like  it  or  not,"  said 
Mrs.  Ladd,  still  regarding  him. 

Mrs.  Wayne  and  Dorothea  had  been  looking 
at  the  new  arrivals,  the  widow  with  a  little  smile 
on  her  face,  and  Dorothea  with  her  usual  se- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  131 

renity.  When  Sir  Hubert  had  removed  his 
light  overcoat  and  revealed  his  gleaming  shirt 
front,  Mrs.  Ladd  made  the  introductions.  Sir 
Hubert  simply  bowed,  and  his  mother  smiled 
and  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Wayne  and  said, 
"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  Then,  turning  to  Dorothea, 
she  gave  her  a  quick  glance.  "  I'm  very  fond 
of  American  girls,"  said  she. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Ladd  ? "  Sir  Hubert  asked, 
glancing  around  the  room,  as  if  he  thought  he 

might  have  overlooked  him. 

.  ^ 
"  Oh,  he'll  be  in  presently.     He's   never   in 

time,  you  know." 

"  I  want  to  have  some  more  games  of  chess 
with  him,"  Sir  Hubert  explained,  apparently 
anxious  to  begin  at  once. 

"  Do,  by  all  means.  It  cheers  him  up.  He 
gets  very  blue  over  here  sometimes." 

At  that  moment  Follett  Ladd  entered,  but- 
toning the  last  button  of  his  waistcoat.  His 
face  was  very  red,  and  one  could  easily  see 
from  it  that  he  had  been  having  a  struggle  with 
his  toilet.  He  bustled  up  to  Lady  Downes  and 
shook  her  by  the  hand.  Then,  after  greeting 
Mrs.  Wayne  and  Dorothea,  he  turned  to  Sir 
Hubert,  and  his  manner  changed  to  one  of  jocu- 
lar familiarity. 


132  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  Well,  old  chap,  how  are  you  ?  I'm  going 
to  beat  you  this  time.  I  won't  go  back  to 
America  till  I've  paid  you  back  for  that  thrash- 
ing you  gave  me  last  summer." 

They  shook  hands  warmly,  and  Sir  Hubert 
laughed  and  replied  : 

"  You'll  have  to  come  down  to  Broadoaks 
again  and  we'll  fight  it  out  there." 

"  Ah,  we've  got  that  all  planned,"  Lady 
Downes  interrupted,  turning  from  Mrs.  Wayne. 
"  Mrs.  Ladd  and  I  have  settled  everything." 

In  a  few  moments  they  sat  at  the  table, 
Dorothea  between  Follett  Ladd  and  Sir  Hu- 
bert, her  mother  flanked  by  Lady  Downes  and 
Mrs.  Ladd.  The  three  ladies  fell  at  once  into 
deep  conference,  and  Dorothea  could  see  Lady 
Downes  glance  smilingly  at  her  every  few 
moments. 

While  the  soup  was  being  served  Sir  Hu- 
bert turned  to  her  and  made  an  effort  to  begin 
conversation. 

"•Are  you  enjoying  the  season  this  year?" 
he  asked. 

"  We've  only  just  come,"  Dorothea  replied. 

"Ah!" 

For  a  moment  he  tried  to  think  of  some- 
thing to  say  ;  then,  as  nothing  occurred  to  him, 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  133 

he  turned  to  his  soup.  Presently  he  began 
again,  as  if  there  had  been  no  break  in  their 
talk.  "  But  you've  been  over  before,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  No,  this  is  my  first  visit." 

"  Is  it,  really  ?  "  He  stared  at  her  blankly. 
"  Now  I  should  have  supposed  you'd  been 
several  times  before." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Dorothea,  to  encourage  him. 

He  grew  thoughtful  again  ;  he  seemed  to 
be  weighing  the  question  as  if  it  were  a  mat- 
ter of  importance. 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  your  voice — your — 
your  manner,"  he  stammered.  "  Not  that  I 
think  the  American  manner  isn't  charming," 
he  added  in  confusion.  "  It  often  is  delightful. 
But  I've  noticed,"  he  concluded,  with  a  little 
smile,  "  that  it  sometimes  changes  when  the 
Americans  have  been  over  here  before." 

This  seemed  to  Dorothea  hardly  a  happy 
speech  ;  but  she  replied  civilly  :  "  The  English 
manner  is  quieter  than  ours.  I  don't  wonder 
you  like  it  better." 

He  flushed  again.  "  I  must  confess  that  we 
do,"  he  replied,  "  but  perhaps  we're  prejudiced. 
You  know  we're  a  pig-headed  people.  That's 
one  of  the  reasons  why  we've  got  on." 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Dorothea  saw  in  this  remark  a  chance  to 
draw  him  out.  He  was  evidently  a  man  of 
little  small  talk,  but  capable  of  enlarging  on 
a  few  topics ;  his  own  country  was  probably 
one  of  them. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Englishmen  never  con- 
form to  others — that  they  make  others  do  what 
they  want  them  to  do  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  he  replied,  apparently  surprised 
and  gratified  that  she  had  seized  his  point. 
"  Englishmen  go  all  over  the  world,  but  they're 
just  as  English  in  China  as  they  are  in  Picca- 
dilly. They  force  people  to  adopt  their  own 
ways  wherever  they  can.  We're  not  adaptable, 
as  you  Americans  are." 

"  But  we've  prospered,  too — a  little,"  Doro- 
thea said  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  and  in  a  better  way — in  a  broader 
way.  That's  why  I  believe  your  country  is 
going  to  eclipse  ours  some  day.  Our  basis  is 
too  narrow  ;  we're  in  danger  of  toppling  over." 

"  What's  this  about  toppling  over  ?  "  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Ladd.  "  Who's  going  to  topple 
over  ?  What's  going  to  topple  over  ?  " 

Sir  Hubert  looked  awkward.  "  I've  been 
telling  Miss  Wayne  about  some  of  my  theo- 
ries," he  replied,  with  a  smile. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  ^5 

"  Hubert  is  becoming  very  advanced,"  said 
Lady  Downes,  glancing  affectionately  at  her 
son. 

"  A  conservative  Englishman  advanced  !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Ladd,  with  the  air  of  saying 
something  humorous.  "  Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  He  threatens  to  go  over  to  the  Liberals," 
said  Lady  Downes.  "  He  has  always  had  a 
great  admiration  for  Mr.  Gladstone." 

Mrs.  Ladd  rolled  her  eyes.  "  For  Mr.  Glad- 
stone !  " 

"  I  want  to  be  on  the  safe  side,"  said 
Sir  Hubert,  with  an  apologetic  smile.  "  The 
day  of  conservatism  and  aristocracy  is 
over." 

"  What  heresy ! "  Mrs.  Ladd  exclaimed, 
glancing  around  the  table.  "  In  America  it's 
just  beginning." 

"  Then  perhaps  we'd  better  emigrate  to 
America,"  said  Sir  Hubert,  smiling  at  his 
mother. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  do  that.  We're  Ameri- 
canizing you  over  here.  Our  American  girls 
are  seeing  to  that." 

Lady  Downes  turned  to  Dorothea  with  a 
display  of  her  fine  white  teeth,  and  Dorothea 


136  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

felt  her  face  growing  hot — why,  she  could 
hardly  have  told. 

Sir  Hubert  ignored  the  remark,  and  inter- 
posed rather  hastily  : 

"  You  rich  Americans  are  driving  us  out  of 
house  and  home.  We're  paying  for  the  ex- 
travagance and  the  ignorance  of  our  grand- 
fathers, and  your  countrymen  are  being  re- 
warded for  their  industry.  Some  of  the  finest 
estates  in  England  are  now  in  the  possession 
of  Americans,  and  in  a  few  years  a  great 
many  more  will  be  turned  over  to  them.  Then 
the  tendency  of  our  legislation  is  toward  the 
destruction  of  large  estates,  anyway." 

After  this  speech  Sir  Hubert  flushed ;  he 
was  unused  to  taking  sustained  conversational 
flights.  Dorothea  wondered  if  the  Downes 
could  be  one  of  the  impoverished  families  that 
Sir  Hubert  had  referred  to.  She  did  not  have 
time  to  give  much  thought  to  this  possibility, 
for  Mrs.  Ladd  speedily  took  up  the  thread  of  talk. 

"  But  we  must  have  an  aristocracy.  We've 
found  that  out  in  our  own  country,  where  we 
pride  ourselves  on  our  republicanism,  or  pre- 
tend to,  at  any  rate.  Our  classes  in  America 
are  just  as  marked  as  those  in  any  other  coun- 
try." 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  137 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Ladd  ?  "  said  Doro- 
thea, to  whom  the  social  leader  had  turned  for 
confirmation.  She  had  felt  that  if  she  didn't 
speak  she  would  laugh. 

"  Why,  of  course  they  are.  There's  a  cer- 
tain set  in  New  York  that  is  far  more  exclusive 
than  the  Prince  of  Wales'  set  in  London.  A 
great  many  Americans  who  get  into  the  Prince 
of  Wales'  set  never  could  get  into  ours." 

"  But  we  don't  all  consider  the  Prince  of 
Wales'  set  the  best,"  Lady  Downes  interposed 
gently. 

"  Well,  it  certainly  sets  the  fashion." 

Mrs.  Ladd's  face  flushed,  not  merely  with 
the  exhilaration  of  argument,  but  with  the  pleas- 
ing consciousness  that  the  dinner  was  going  off 
well.  She  had  been  afraid  that  Dorothea  would 
be  icy  and  Sir  Hubert  silent,  and  the  burden 
of  conversation  would  be  sustained  by  the  two 
older  women  and  herself ;  her  husband  she  did 
not  even  think  of  in  this  connection ;  she  never 
counted  on  him  for  social  support. 

Lady  Downes  did  not  reply  to  Mrs.  Ladd's 
speech,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  an  awk- 
ward pause.  Follett  Ladd's  noisy  munching 
seemed  to  resound  through  the  room.  Then 
the  social  leader  went  on : 


!38  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  I  must  acknowledge  that  the  marks  of  dis- 
tinction between  the  classes  are  more  noticeable 
in  England  than  in  America.  Here,  it  seems  to 
me,  every  man  and  woman  is  socially  labelled. 
You  can  tell  a  middle-class  woman  as  soon  as 
you  look  at  her,  and  there's  absolutely  no  room 
for  doubt  when  she  speaks.  And,  of  course, 
the  marks  of  the  lower-class  people  are  even 
plainer.  There's  nothing  in  America,  for  exam- 
ple, like  your  costermonger ;  there's  no  class 
there  that  he  could  be  compared  with.  I  have 
a  theory  that  the  costers  are  a  race  by  them- 
selves." 

Sir  Hubert  smiled.  "  But  still  very  Eng- 
lish." 

"  Yes,  English,  and  yet  not  English.  They've 
lived  in  England  for  generations ;  so  they've 
naturally  acquired  traits  that  are  common  to 
the  English  of  the  lowest  class.  But  in  some 
ways  they  are  absolutely  unique." 

Sir  Hubert  did  not  attempt  to  refute  Mrs. 
Ladd's  opinion ;  Dorothea  saw  from  his  face 
that  he  did  not  take  it  seriously.  His  eyes 
turned  to  his  empty  plate.  Lady  Downes  was 
looking  at  him  and  smiling.  After  the  silence 
that  followed,  Mrs.  Ladd  resumed  : 

"  People  talk   about    the  nouveaux  riches  of 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  139 

America,  but  it  seems  to  me  there  are  plenty 
of  nonveaux  riches  in  England,  too." 

"Ah,  yes!"  Lady  Downes  sighed.  "So 
many  commoners  have  been  knighted  lately. 
Some  of  them  are  quite  vulgar." 

"Titles  are  like  wine,  you  know,"  said  her 
son,  rather  tritely,  smiling  and  dropping  his 
eyes  again. 

"And  some  of  the  old  ones,"  Follett  Ladd 
interposed,  "  are  pretty  sour.  Think  of  old 
Ballington,"  he  added,  with  a  knowing  glance 
at  Sir  Hubert. 

"  As  an  example  of  the  virtues,  I'm  afraid 
our  aristocracy  is  a  failure,"  Sir  Hubert 
laughed. 

"  The  more  we  become  civilized  the  more 
we  are  tempted,"  cried  Mrs.  Ladd,  rushing  to 
the  defence  of  the  class  with  which  she  felt 
she  had  a  natural  affinity. 

"  And  the  less  strength  we  have  to  resist 
temptation,"  her  husband  added,  helping  him- 
self to  another  piece  of  chicken.  "  Let  me 
give  you  some  more,  Downes." 

Sir  Hubert  raised  his  hand  deprecatingly. 
Then  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Ladd.  "  That's  a 
great  argument  for  civilization,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Of  course,  we  all  know  that  civilization  is 


140 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


only  an  excuse  for  the  luxury  of  the  rich,"  she 
replied. 

"  Then  we  mustn't  civilize  our  lower  classes. 
If  we  do,  they  II  become  luxurious,"  Sir  Hu- 
bert laughed. 

"  Worse  than  that,"  Mrs.  Ladd  corrected. 
"  They'll  take  away  our  luxuries." 

"  That's  just  what  they  are  doing  in  Eng- 
land," cried  Sir  Hubert,  with  a  triumphant 
smile.  "  So  we  agree,  after  all." 

Mrs.  Ladd  flushed.  "  It  all  depends  on  the 
point  of  view,"  she  said  loftily. 

"  I  must  say  I  think  the  masses,  as  they  are 
called,  have  the  advantage  of  us,"  Sir  Hubert 
went  on.  "  They  -can  work  up,  but  the  best  we 
can  do  is  to  keep  floating — and  many  of  us  can't 
even  do  that." 

"  Ah  !  we  must  make  him  come  to  America," 
cried  Mrs.  Ladd.  "  Then  he'll  change  his 
views." 

"  He's  been  on  the  point  of  going  half  a 
dozen  times,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  I  shall  surprise  you  one  day  by  taking 
the  steamer  at  an  hour's  notice." 

The  conversation  broke  intQ  twos  again,  and 
Sir  Hubert  entertained  Dorothea  with  an  ac- 
count of  his  life  in  the  country.  He  disliked 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  !4! 

the  town,  he  said  ;  he  came  in  just  to  be  with 
his  mother ;  she  would  be  lonely  without  him. 
Did  they  ever  find  the  country  dull  ?  Oh,  no. 
They  nearly  always  had  a  houseful  of  people. 
His  mother  and  he  thought  it  a  great  treat  to 
be  alone  each  year.  Of  course,  he  added, 
apologetically,  they  liked  to  have  people  with 
them.  But  it  was  good  to  be  off  by  yourself 
once  in  a  while,  wasn't  it?  And  being  with 
his  mother  was  much  better  than  being  by 
himself ;  she  was  the  best  company  in  the 
world  ;  she  understood  things.  Some  women 
did  have  a  wonderful  faculty  for  understand- 
ing things,  didn't  Miss  Wayne  think  so  ?  Sir 
Hubert  had  never  known  any  one  whose  under- 
standing was  keener  than  his  mother's.  She 
was  keen  in  practical  things,  too ;  he  would 
rather  have  her  advice  in  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness than  the  opinion  of  a  hard-headed  business 
man. 

Then  Dorothea,  without  realizing  that  she 
was  doing  it,  led  him  on  to  tell  about  his  life 
at  Harrow  and  Oxford.  He  had  distinguished 
himself  at  Oxford,  he  told  her,  chiefly  by  driv- 
ing tandem  ;  he  did  not  say  that  he  had  won  a 
much  greater  distinction  in  athletics  ;  his  broad 
shoulders,  however,  made  her  suspect  that  he 


I42  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

had.  He  related  some  amusing  stories  of  men 
who  were  at  the  university  with  him  and  had 
since  become  eminent  in  politics. 

"  I'm  one  of  the  do-nothings,"  he  said.  "  I've 
simply  stood  aside  and  watched  those  chaps 
forging  ahead.  In  America,  I  suppose,  you 
don't  have  people  like  me.  You  all  forge 
ahead,  or  you  try  to.  After  all,  it's  the  trying 
that's  the  important  thing,  isn't  it?  " 

Presently  Mrs.  Ladd  drew  away  from  the 
table,  and  the  others,  following  her  example, 
sat  about,  sipping  their  coffee.  Mrs.  Ladd  en- 
gaged Sir  Hubert,  and  Lady  Downes  took 
her  place  beside  Dorothea.  Mrs.  Wayne  was 
obliged  to  cope  with  the  husband  of  her 
hostess. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  a  very  wonderful 
person,"  said  Lady  Downes.  "  You've  made 
my  son  talk.  1  don't  think  I've  ever  heard 
him  talk  so  much  as  he  did  to-night.  You 
must  have  inspired  him." 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Ladd,  I  think.  She's  so 
clever,"  Dorothea  replied  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  but  he's  been  at  table  with  Mrs.  Ladd 
before  and  hardly  opened  his  mouth  except  to 
eat.  I'm  sure  it  was  you." 

Then  Lady  Downes  proceeded  to  discourse 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  143 

about  her  son.  He  had  always  been  so  good  ; 
he  had  done  wonders  for  the  estate.  When  it 
passed  into  his  hands  it  was  terribly  impover- 
ished ;  but  he  had  .devoted  himself  heart  and 
soul  to  improving  it  and  removing  the  debt. 
Of  course,  he  hadn't  been  able  to  remove  all 
the  debt ;  it  would  take  years  to  do  that.  He 
was  very  much  interested  in  agriculture — in 
scientific  agriculture.  If  Miss  Wayne  could 
only  see  Broadoaks,  she  would  like  it,  Lady 
Downes  felt  sure ;  all  Americans  liked  it.  She 
herself  was  very  fond  of  Americans ;  they  were 
so  clever,  and  so  adaptable.  Miss  Wayne  and 
her  mother  must  come  down  to  Broadoaks  some 
time — for  a  few  days.  It  was  only  one  hour 
from  London  ;  they  wouldn't  find  the  journey 
fatiguing.  Mrs.  Ladd  was  coming  soon  ;  per- 
haps they  would  come  then. 

"  We  go  away  the  week  after  next,"  Lady 
Downes  added.  "  Hubert  is  so  anxious  to  get 
back  to  the  country.  I  have  one  of  my  last 
'  at  homes  '  next  Saturday.  I  do  wish  you  and 
your  mother  would  come.  But  before  then  I'll 
come  to  see  you  if  I  may.  I'm  very  fond  of 
young  people,"  she  said  with  her  soft  smile. 
"  I'm  sure  we  shall  be  the  best  of  friends. 


XL 

ON  their  way  home  Dorothea  could  see  that 
her  mother  considered  the  evening  a  success. 

"  Lady  Downes  is  coming  to-morrow,"  said 
the  widow,  with  a  suggestion  of  triumph  in 
her  tone,  her  voice  vibrant  above  the  noise 
of  the  carriage  wheels.  "  Of  course,  you'll 
stay  in." 

"  But  I  promised  to  go  to  the  National  Gal- 
lery," Dorothea  replied. 

"  Promised  ?  Who  did  you  promise?  "  Mrs. 
Wayne  asked,  becoming  ungrammatical  in  her 
excitement. 

"  Aleck  French  said  he  would  show  me  the 
Correggios." 

"  Aleck  French  !  Always  Aleck  French  ! 
I'm  sick  of  hearing  his  name.  I  should  think 
you'd  have  a  little  pride  !  " 

"  I  can  write  him  a  note  or  send  him  a  tele- 
gram." 

Mrs.  Wayne  subsided  into  a  corner  of  the 

144 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  ^5 

carriage.  "  She  said  she'd  bring  her  son,"  she 
remarked  a  moment  later,  as  if  there  had  been 
no  break  in  her  talk  about  Lady  Downes.  ^She 
had  a  habit  of  ignoring  her  unpleasant  inter- 
ludes with  her  daughter  ;  they  seemed  to  make 
no  impression  on  her. 

As  Dorothea  offered  no  reply,  her  mother 
resumed  :  "  What  did  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  liked  him." 

"  Don't  you  think  he's  handsome  ?  " 

"  No,  not  handsome.     His  nose  is  too  large." 

"  I  like  that.  It's  a  sign  of  generosity, 
they  say." 

"  He  seemed  to  me  rather  fine-looking," 
Dorothea  admitted. 

"  Well,  he's  a  gentleman,  anyway,"  said  Mrs. 
Wayne,  as  if  putting  an  end  to  an  argument. 

The  next  day  the  callers  appeared.  Sir 
Hubert  had  lost  his  fluency  of  the  night  be- 
fore ;  what  he  did  say  was  confined  chiefly  to 
commonplace.  Lady  Downes,  however,  was 
all  small  talk  and  sweetness  ;  she  was  charmed 
with  the  lodgings,  and  became  enraptured  over 
Dorothea's  pictures,  which  she  had  insisted  upon 
seeing  ;  Mrs.  Ladd,  she  explained,  had  told  her 
how  wonderful  they  were.  Sir  Hubert  looked 
at  them  intently,  and  said  a  few  words  of  con- 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

ventional  praise  which  convinced  Dorothea  that 
he  disliked  them. 

When,  he  left  with  his  mother,  who  made 
Mrs.  Wayne  promise  to  come  early  on  Satur- 
day afternoon,  Dorothea  very  nearly  lost  her 
temper.  She  gathered  in  a  heap  the  canvases, 
which  had  been  scattered  along  one  side  of  the 
room. 

"  Never  ask  me  to  show  these  to  any  one 
again,  mother." 

"  Never  show  them  to  any  one  again ! 
Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  they're  not  worth  showing. 
Those  people  knew  how  bad  they  were.  They 
see  too  many  pictures  not  to  know  the  differ- 
ence between  good  work  and  bad." 

"  Why,  Lady  Downes  was  delighted  with 
them.  She  told  me  so  in  the  hall.  She  thinks 
you  have  genius." 

"  Genius  !  "  Dorothea  repeated,  scornfully. 

"  The  English  don't  flatter,  whatever  you 
may  say  of  them.  They're  the  bluntest  people 
in  the  world.  Mrs.  Ladd — 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  are.  That's  why  Sir 
Hubert  had  so  little  to  say  about  my  work. 
He  knew  he  couldn't  say  anything  good ;  so  he 
kept  still." 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  147 

"  I'm  sure  he  said  it  was  capital.  That's  the 
very  word  he  used." 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Wayne  was  ill  with  neu- 
ralgia. She  didn't  get  up  till  noon,  and  Doro- 
thea decided  to  postpone  her  visit  to  the  gal- 
lery ;  but  early  in  the  afternoon  her  mother 
urged  her  to  go  out ;  she  would  herself  take  a 
nap  on  the  lounge. 

"  You  can  bring  Aleck  French  back  to  din- 
ner, if  you  want  to,"  she  said,  in  a  conciliatory 
tone.  "  I  guess  he  won't  mind  my  being 
a  little  out  of  sorts.  I'd  like  to  see  him 
again." 

Dorothea  was  not  surprised  by  this  conces- 
sion. It  was  characteristic  of  her  mother's  in- 
consistency ;  besides,  it  was  probably  due  di- 
rectly to  a  touch  of  homesickness  which  had 
manifested  itself  in  the  morning  by  a  sudden  fit 
of  weeping.  With  Aleck  she  could  talk  over 
friends  in  Oswego. 

When  she  reached  the  gallery  she  found 
French  in  the  Turner  room,  and  there  they 
remained  for  more  than  an  hour.  Then  Doro- 
thea decided  not  to  look  at  the  Correggios ;  she 
felt  too  tired.  French  suggested  that  they  take 
a  walk  in  Hyde  Park.  He  called  a  cab,  and 
after  reaching  the  park  they  spent  another  hour 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

in  sauntering  about  and  in  watching  the  car- 
riages that  passed  in  Rotton  Row. 

"  This  isn't  the  best  time  to  see  the  fashion- 
able people,"  he  said.  "  You  ought  to  come 
some  morning.  Then  they  are  all  out.  Eleven 
o'clock's  the  swell  hour  for  driving  this  year." 

Dorothea  was  interested  in  the  appearance 
of  the  women  that  she  saw  in  the  carriages. 
Most  of  them  wore  a  superabundance  of  hair, 
and  both  in  their  hair  and  on  their  faces  many 
displayed  the  effects  of  art.  She  had  heard 
that  the  Englishwomen  were  fresh  and  whole- 
some looking,  but  these  people  were  certainly 
neither. 

"  The  fashionable  women  that  you  see  in 
London  aren't  typical  Englishwomen,"  said 
French,  when  she  had  told  him  her  impressions. 
"  They're  all  dried  up  by  late  hours,  and  spoiled 
by  the  horrible  trick  of  making  up  that  seems 
to  be  the  style  here  now.  Just  see  how  many 
red-haired  women  there  are.  Next  year  they'll 
have  yellow  hair — or  green,"  he  laughed. 

"  But  where  are  the  typical  Englishwomen  ?  " 

"  In  the  country,  looking  after  their  fami- 
lies." 

"  I  think  Lady  Downes  must  be  one  of 
them,"  she  said  absent-mindedly. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  149 

Then  she  told  h'im  about  the  dinner  at  the 
Ladds'.  With  regard  to  Sir  Hubert,  she  found 
herself  taking  a  satirical  tone.  She  described 
his  appearance  and  his  manners,  and  she  re- 
peated passages  in  the  conversation  at  table 
that  had  amused  her. 

"  Your  mother  will  be  wanting  to  marry 
you  off  to  some  of  these  titled  people,"  French 
said,  with  a  smile  that  did  not  appear  joyous. 

"  I  shall  never  marry  any  one,  Aleck,"  she 
replied,  bending  over  and  making  lines  in  the 
earth  with  her  parasol. 

He  followed  the  movement  of  the  parasol 
with  his  eyes. 

"  I  always  thought  you  were  too  good  for 
me" 

She  rose  from  the  seat.  "  Please  let  us  not 
talk  about  these  things  any  more,  Aleck,"  she 
said  with  a  sigh. 

They  walked  in  the  park  till  it  was  time  for 
them  to  go  to  Mandeville  Place  for  dinner.  As 
they  approached  the  house  French  grew  silent. 
Dorothea  saw  that  he  felt  nervous  about  meet- 
ing her  mother ;  but  when  he  entered  the  draw- 
ing room  the  widow  received  him  as  she  might 
have  done  in  the  old  Oswego  days,  only  with 
more  enthusiasm.  She  treated  him  with  a  tact 


150  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

that  surprised  Dorothea,  arid  evidently  touched 
her  old  admirer.  Mrs.  Wayne  made  no  refer- 
ence to  his  marriage,  but  when,  about  eleven 
o'clock,  he  went  away  she  followed  him  to  the 
door  and  urged  him  to  come  soon  again. 

"  You  must  come  some  time  when  Doro- 
thea's away,"  she  added.  "  Then  we  can  have 
one  of  our  old  talks." 

After  the  door  closed  upon  him,  however, 
she  spoiled  for  her  daughter  the  effect  she  had 
made  during  the  evening. 

"He's  a  perfect  wreck,  isn't  he?"  she  said. 
"  You  were  lucky  to  get  rid  of  him." 

Mrs.  Wayne's  vivid  imagination  had  evi- 
dently read  into  Aleck  French's  appearance 
what  she  conceived  ought  to  be  a  result  of  his 
misfortune.  To  Dorothea  he  presented  no  sign 
of  a  wreck.  Of  course  he  couldn't  be  very 
happy;  but  he  probably  painted  as  well  as  he 
ever  did.  After  a  time  he  would  probably  get 
a  divorce,  marry  some  one  else,  and  become 
cheerful  and  commonplace  again.  This  was  a 
prosaic  view  to  take  of  him,  but  she  felt  sure 
that  it  was  the  right  one.  As  for  the  other  ref- 
erence of  her  mother's,  that  repeated  itself  in 
her  mind  as  she  drove  the  next  afternoon  to  the 
Downes'  in  Chelsea.  Though  they  had  prom- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  !$! 

ised  to  come  early,  it  was  nearly  five  o'clock 
when  they  reached  there.  The  house  was  small 
and  plain,  painted  white  with  yellow  trimmings. 
On  one  of  the  stone  posts  of  the  gateway  "  Gras- 
mere  "  was  printed  in  large  letters.  The  front 
door  opened  into  a  large,  meagrely  furnished 
room,  with  an  enormous  brick  fireplace  on  one 
side.  On  the  chairs  lay  a  number  of  silk  hats, 
and  from  above  came  a  murmur  of  voices. 

"I'm  afraid  we're  very  late,"  Mrs.  Wayne 
whispered,  as  they  went  up  the  winding  stairs. 

They  found  that  the  drawing  room  was 
crowded,  and  they  had  to  stand  for  a  moment 
near  the  door,  waiting  till  Lady  Downes  should 
notice  them.  Dorothea  could  see  Sir  Hubert's 
broad  back  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  she 
could  catch  glimpses  of  a  woman's  dress  be- 
hind it. 

When  Lady  Downes  emerged  from  the 
group  that  had  been  surrounding  her,  she 
smiled  and  rustled  up  toward  the  doorway. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  found  your  way  here,"  she 
said,  taking  Mrs.  Wayne's  hand.  "  Did  you 
have  any  trouble?"  she  asked  when  she  turned 
to  Dorothea.  "  It's  a  little  remote,  you  know. 
We  find  it  inconvenient  sometimes.  It  isn't  our 
own  place ;  we've  just  rented  it  from  the  Bur- 


152  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

tons.  They're  in  Switzerland  now.  What  a 
delightful  evening  we  had  at  the  Ladds' !  "  she 
cried,  glancing  from  mother  to  daughter. 
"  Mrs.  Ladd  is  such  a  good  hostess,  isn't  she  ? 
It  seems  to  me  all  American  women  are.  I 
never  knew  Hubert  to  talk  so  much  ;  but  I've 
told  you  about  that.  He's  hardly  spoken  a 
word  since.  Perhaps  you  can  draw  him  out 
again." 

Lady  Downes  led  the  ladies  into  the  centre 
of  the  room,  where  she  presented  them  to  the 
group  of  people  standing  under  the  chandelier. 

"  We  have  a  great  many  American  friends," 
said  a  fat  little  man  to  Dorothea.  "  Mrs.  Wen- 
dell and  I  are  always  glad  to  meet  them.  We 
quite  look  forward  to  seeing  them  every  sum- 
mer. What  part  of  America  do  you  come 
from  ?  " 

When  Dorothea  explained  that  she  came 
from  Oswego,  but  had  been  living  in  New  York 
during  the  past  winter,  he  went  on  : 

"Then  I  wonder  if  you  know  a  very 'dear 
friend  of  ours.  There  he  is  now.  See,  the  gen- 
tleman just  shaking  hands  with  Lady  Downes." 

Dorothea  looked  quickly  across  the  room 
and  saw  a  tall,  fashionably  dressed  young  man 
bowing  before  her  hostess  and  clasping  her 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  153 

hand  high  in  the  air.  For  a  moment  she  did 
not  recognise  the  figure ;  then  the  sound  of  a 
familiar  voice  made  her  face  flame.  She  turned 
to  her  new  acquaintance,  and  said  : 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  know  him.  It's  Mr.  Boyd, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Harrington  Boyd.  He's  one  of 
the  cleverest  of  your  younger  writers,  don't 
you  think  so?" 

"  I  didn't  know  that  he  was  still  in  London." 

He  did  not  observe  the  evasion.  "  He's  stay- 
ing a  little  later  than  usual,  I  think." 

Harrington  Boyd  had  edged  away  from 
Lady  Downes,  and  was  shaking  hands  with  a 
tall  woman  beside  Mrs.  Wayne. 

"  I'm  enchanted  to  meet  Mrs.  Wendell 
again,"  he  said,  with  mock  solemnity.  "  When 
did  her  ladyship  deign  to  return  to  town  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Wendell  and  he  are  old  friends,"  said 
the  little  man,  smiling.  "  They  once  wrote  a 
short  story  together." 

Dorothea  kept  her  eyes  on  Harrington 
Boyd.  Mrs.  Wendell  presented  him  to  Mrs. 
Wayne,  and  he  looked  startled. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  she  heard  him  say.  "  How 
delightful !  I  didn't  know  you  were  over  here. 
Is  Miss  Wayne  with  you  ?  " 


!54  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

At  that  moment  his  glance  met  Dorothea's, 
and  she  felt  her  face  growing  hot  again. 

"  This  is  a  pleasure,"  he  said,  hurrying  to 
her.  "  Have  you  been  over  long  ?  " 

"  Less  than  a  week,"  Dorothea  replied,  feel- 
ing the  awkwardness  that  the  presence  of  Har- 
rington Boyd  always  caused  her. 

Boyd  could  not  conceal  the  surprise  that 
he  felt  in  finding  her  in  Lady  Downes'  draw- 
ing room.  Indeed,  his  next  speech  would 
have  betrayed  this,  even  if  his  manner  had 
not. 

"  Lady  Downes  never  told  me  that  she  knew 
you,"  he  said  reproachfully. 

"  Perhaps  you  haven't  seen  her  since  she 
met  us.  That  was  only  a  few  days  ago." 

"  You  have  been  making  hay  over  here, 
haven't  you  ?  "  he  continued,  with  a  smile  that 
did  not  compensate  for  the  rudeness  of  the 
speech. 

Wendell  had  been  standing  by  and  smiling, 
as  if  he  were  enjoying  the  meeting  of  Harring- 
ton Boyd  and  Dorothea  even  more  than  Boyd 
himself. 

"  He's  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  he  to 
Dorothea,  "  that  he  forgets  all  about  his  old 
English  friends," 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


155 


"  Oh,  Wendell !  How  are  you  ?  I  beg  your 
pardon.  Of  course,  I'm  delighted." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  me,"  returned  Wendell ; 
"  I'll  come  back  to  Miss  Wayne  presently.  I'll 
not  spoil  your  t$te-a-t$te" 

"  It  is  such  a  pleasure  to  see  you,"  Boyd  re- 
peated, turning  to  Dorothea  again.  "  I  didn't 
even  know  you  were  going  to  be  in  London 
this  year.  Of  course,  you're  enjoying  it  im- 
mensely." 

"  I  think  I  shall  enjoy  it,"  she  replied 
vaguely. 

"  I'm  glad  you  know  Lady  Downes.  You 
meet  all  kinds  here,  the  fashionable  and  the 
artistic  and  the  literary.  Not  so  many  literary 
people  as  at  some  other  places,  perhaps  ;  but 
it's  all  the  better  for  that.  I  think  that  Mrs. 
Wendell  and  I  are  about  the  only  representa- 
tives of  the  guild  here." 

"  I  haven't  seen  much  of  your  work  lately," 
said  Dorothea,  with  a  nervous  feeling  that  she 
must  keep  the  conversation  going. 

"  No,  I  haven't  been  publishing  much.  I'm 
on  a  big  thing  now — something  out  of  my  usual 
line."  Then  he  asked  suddenly :  "  Have  you 
met  many  of  the  people  ?  " 

Dorothea  shook  her  head. 


1 56 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


"  We  came  only  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"  Some  of  them  are  great  swells.  See  that 
woman  your  mother  is  talking  to  now?  That's 
Lady  Bloomsbury.  She  has  three  distinctions: 
she's  one  of  the  richest  women  in  England,  she 
belongs  to  one  of  the  oldest  families,  and 
she's  the  worst-dressed  woman  in  the  United 
Kingdom.  See  that  horrible  red  gown  she's 
got  on.  She's  a  terrible  pessimist ;  her  hus- 
band's made  her  so  ;  he's  a  rake.  They  say  she 
pays  him  a  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  live 
away  from  her." 

Dorothea  glanced  at  the  thin  figure  in  red. 
Lady  Bloomsbury  was  hardly  more  than  thirty, 
but  her  face  lacked 'all  suggestion  of  youth. 
The  features  were  regular,  the  eyes  large  and 
black,  and  her  coarse  black  hair  grew  low  on 
her  forehead.  She  was  certainly  as  unattractive 
as  her  ill-fitting  clothes,  but  there  was  something 
interesting  in  her  face.  She  was  talking  with 
Mrs.  Wayne  listlessly,  as  if  she  were  bored. 
Once  she  glanced  toward  Dorothea,  and  be- 
trayed the  subject  of  Mrs.  Wayne's  loquacity. 

"  The  man  behind  your  mother,  that  big 
fellow,  is  Lord  Marquand,  the  Liberal-Unionist 
M.  P.  He's  talking  with  Miss  Leighton.  Stun- 
ning creature,  isn't  she  ?  That  blonde  type  of 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  157 

Englishwoman  is  the  only  kind  that  can  com- 
pare with  our  American  girls  for  beauty.  See 
those  heavenly  gray  eyes !  She's  turning  the 
whole  battery  on  him,  isn't  she?  He's  a  great 
catch.  He's  rich  and  well-born,  and  he's  going 
up.  Her  face  has  a  childlike  ingenuousness  ; 
everything  surprises  her." 

"  She's  very  lovely,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  And  she's  really  clever,  and  her  mamma  is 
even  cleverer.  They  haven't  much  money,  but 
they  go  to  the  best  tailor  in  London.  It's  econ- 
omy in  the  end,"  he  laughed.  "  Haven't  you 
ever  seen  her  pictures  in  the  shop  windows  ? 
They  say  she  gets  a  commission  on  them." 

Dorothea  felt  uncomfortable ;  she  did  not 
enjoy  hearing  such  "  smart  talk  "  as  this  from  a 
man.  It  was  bad  enough  to  be  obliged  to  listen 
to  it  from  other  women. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  very  blast"  she  said, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Everyone  is — in  London.  '  Abandon  all 
illusions,  ye  who  enter  here,'  is  written  over 
every  London  drawing  room.  If  you  go 
through  a  London  season  you'll  become  blasee^ 
too." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not." 

Mrs.    Wayne     presently     made     her     way 


158  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

over  to  Dorothea,  followed  by  Lady  Blooms- 
bury. 

"  I've  asked  your  mother  to  present  me," 
said  the  countess,  without  waiting  for  the  intro- 
duction. "  I've  heard  so  much  about  you  from 
Lady  Downes." 

"  I'll  take  myself  off  for  the  present,"  said 
Boyd.  "  But  do  let  me  come  to  see  you,  won't 
you  ?  I  may  not  have  a  chance  to  speak  to  you 
again.  Where  are  you  staying  ? " 

Dorothea  gave  him  the  address,  resenting 
the  advantage  he  had  taken  of  her,  and  he 
bade  her  a  smiling  farewell.  Lady  Downes 
then  came  up,  followed  by  a  white-haired  man 
with  a  very  youthful  face,  whom  she  presented 
to  Mrs.  Wayne  as  a  compatriot.  Dorothea  was 
thus  left  for  several  minutes  alone  with  Lady 
Bloomsbury.  They  talked  about  London  and 
about  America,  which  Lady  Bloomsbury  was 
anxious  to  see. 

"  The  Bowmans  have  asked  me  to  pay  them 
a  visit  next  spring,"  she  said.  "  They  are  some 
American  friends  of  mine  ;  they  live  in  Wash- 
ington. But  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  go. 
I  shouldn't  care  much  about  visiting  the  Amer- 
ican cities,  anyway.  I  fancy  they  must  be  very 
like  our  own.  I  should  like  to  go  out  West, 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  j  59 

and  live  in  the  wilds — rough  it,  as  you  say. 
I'm  so  tired  of  town  life.  Now  all  this  bores 
me  to  extinction,"  she  added,  with  a  wave  of 
her  hand.  "  It's  the  same  thing,  the  same  peo- 
ple all  the  time." 

"  But  you  must  meet  new  people  occasion- 
ally," Dorothea  remarked  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  really  old  people  with 
new  faces.  Society  is  reducing  us  all  to  the 
same  type.  Heaven  knows  what  humanity  will 
be  like  if  society  continues  as  it  is  a  few  genera- 
tions longer.  Now  and  then,  of  course,  one 
finds  men  and  women  who  keep  themselves 
human — who  don't  allow  themselves  to  be 
turned  into  machines  of  convention.  But 
people  like  that  are  rare." 

Dorothea  could  not  help  smiling  again. 

"  Mr.  Boyd  has  just  told  me  that  London 
makes  people  biases.  I'm  afraid  it's  true." 

"Ah,  my  dear  child,"  Lady  Bloomsbury 
smiled  in  reply,  "  it's  the  wickedest  city  in  the 
world.  They  say  Paris  is  wicked,  but  it's  inno- 
cent compared  with  London.  A  very  small 
number  of  people  give  Paris  its  reputation  ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  in  London,  in  the  society 
where  you'd  expect  to  find  the  best  thought  and 
the  best  types  of  character,  there's  something 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 

insidiously  unwholesome — something  that  de- 
stroys your  faith  in  everything.  Culture 
doesn't  mean  morality,  my  dear.  You'll  find 
that  out  when  you're  as  old  as  I  am." 

Dorothea  was  amused  at  this  touch  of  pa- 
tronage. Lady  Bloomsbury  could  not  be,  at 
most,  more  than  three  or  four  years  older  than 
herself;  but  she  had  unconsciously  assumed  the 
superiority  that  every  married  woman  feels  to 
unmarried,  women  of  their  own  or  less  than 
their  own  age. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  why  one  should 
expect  culture  to  make  people  moral,"  said 
Dorothea.  "  Culture  and  morality  are  quite 
different,  it  seems  to  me." 

Lady  Bloomsbury  glanced  at  her  sharply. 

"  If  we  don't  improve  by  education,"  she  re- 
plied, "  I  don't  see  how  we  are  to  improve." 

"  But  there  are  other  ways  of  improving  be- 
sides improving  morally,  aren't  there  ? "  said 
Dorothea,  alarmed  at  being  launched  so  sud- 
denly upon  an  ethical  discussion.  "  The  unedu- 
cated poor  people  that  I  have  known  seem  to 
me  quite  as  good  as  any  other  people." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  its  a  great  question."  Lady 
Bloomsbury  indicated  by  this  speech  that  the 
subject  was  too  great  to  be  discussed  at  that 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  !6l 

moment,  and  Dorothea  was  quite  willing  to 
drop  it.  "  You  Americans  think  for  yourselves, 
don't  you  ?  That's  what  I  like  about  you. 
You  must  come  over  to  see  me  some  afternoon, 
and  we'll  talk  things  over.  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  all  about  your  work.  I've  heard  so  much 
about  it.  Perhaps  I'll  get  you  to  paint  my  por- 
trait, if  you're  as  clever  as  Lady  Downes  says 
you  are." 

As  she  made  her  way  toward  Lady  Downes, 
Dorothea  stood  alone  in  front  of  the  fireplace. 
Harrington  Boyd  and  Wendell,  who  were  talk- 
ing together,  saw  her,  and  both  hurried  toward 
her.  Lady  Downes,  however,  took  her  away 
and  presented  her  to  a  white-haired  dowager 
who  had  asked  for  an  introduction. 

In  a  few  minutes  Dorothea  found  herself  sur- 
rounded ;  every  one  that  she  met  wanted  to  talk 
to  her  about  America,  and  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  labelled.  It  was  not  until  her  mother  told 
her  they  must  go  that  Sir  Hubert  presented 
himself  before  her. 

"  But  you  aren't  going  now,"  he  cried.  "  I 
haven't  had  a  chance  to  talk  with  you." 

"  But  we  must.  We've  stayed  a  long  time," 
she  replied.  "  You  ought  to  have  come  up  be- 
fore," she  added,  with  a  smile. 


r62  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  I'm  so  very  sorry."  He  apologized  as  if 
the  matter  were  very  serious.  "  I  saw  that  you 
were  so  occupied — I  didn't  dare  to  intrude. 
But  you'll  at  least  let  me  go  down  to  the  door 
with  you  and  put  you  in  a  hansom." 

Dorothea  was  vexed  with  him  for  not  hav- 
ing come  up,  and  she  said  to  herself  that  it  was 
just  like  an  Englishman  to  be  shy  and  awk- 
ward ;  an  American  would  have  been  far  more 
attentive.  Now  she  felt  ashamed  of  the  petti- 
ness. Why  should  Sir  Hubert  have  given  her 
more  attention  than  any  one  else  ?  He  had  so 
many  people  to  speak  to  that  it  was  only  nat- 
ural he  should  overlook  a  few. 

In  spite  of  her  reasoning,  however,  she  was 
in  ill  humour  when  she  returned  home.  The 
necessity  of  hiding  this  from  her  mother  at  din- 
ner deepened  her  depression,  and  she  went  to 
bed  early  with  the  unpleasant  consciousness  of 
having  passed  a  day  of  disappointment. 


XII. 

THE  next  three  weeks  were  an  exciting  pe- 
riod for  the  Waynes.  Several  of  the  ladies  they 
had  met  at  the  Downes'  called  on  them,  and  in- 
vitations for  dinners  and  cards  for  "  at  homes" 
soon  followed,  most  of  them  from  people  they 
hardly  knew.  One  of  the  dinner  invitations 
came  from  Lady  Downes,  another  from  the 
Countess  of  Bloomsbury.  Dorothea  was  much 
amused  by  her  social  success,  and  she  continued 
to  give  humorous  descriptions  of  her  expe- 
riences to  Aleck  French. 

Mrs.  Ladd,  who  called  at  Mandcville  Place 
at  least  three  times  a  week,  could  not  conceal 
her  elation. 

"  There  are  very  few  Americans  that  are 
taken  up  here  as  you've  been,"  she  said  to  Dor- 
othea. "  It's  very  easy  to  get  into  some  of 
the  sets  over  here,  but  not  into  Lady  Blooms- 
bury's." 

The  Downes,  instead  of  leaving  for  Broad- 

163 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

oaks  when  they  had  planned,  decided  to  re- 
main in  town  till  the  middle  of  July.  Even 
then  the  season  gave  no  sign  of  waning,  for 
the  pleasant  weather  kept  people  in  London. 
Sir  Hubert  called  frequently  at  Mandeville 
Place,  sometimes  with  his  mother,  more  otten 
alone.  During  these  calls  he  was  very  silent, 
but  Mrs.  Wayne  kept  the  conversational  ball  in 
motion. 

One  afternoon  when  her  mother  had  gone  to 
lunch  with  Mrs.  Ladd,  Dorothea  resolved  to  do 
some  work  on  one  of  her  unfinished  pictures. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  glanced  at  them 
since  the  day  she  had  shown  them  to  Lady 
Downes  and  Sir  Hubert.  For  a  long  time  she 
painted  steadily  ;  then  the  light  grew  dim,  and 
she  resolved  to  go  for  a  walk.  The  air  was 
pleasantly  cool ;  she  could  hardly  realize  that  it 
was  the  month  of  July ;  in  America  the  heat 
was  probably  intense.  She  looked  at  her  watch, 
and  found  that  it  was  nearly  five  o'clock.  She 
should  have  time  for  a  walk  in  the  park  if  she 
took  a  hansom. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  park  she  got  out 
and  proceeded  to  walk  rapidly.  She  did  not 
observe  the  figure  of  a  fashionably  dressed 
young  girl,  who  looked  up  with  surprise  and  de- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  ^5 

light  in  her  face  as  she  passed.  The  girl  fol- 
lowed her  with  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  and 
then  rose  quickly  and  pursued  her ;  she  reached 
Dorothea  near  the  corner,  and  touched  her  on 
the  arm. 

"  Why,  Miss  Flagler !  "  cried  Dorothea. 

"  I  thought  it  must  be  you !""  the  girl  ex- 
claimed joyously.  "  You  didn't  notice  me  as 
you  passed." 

"  I  didn't  see  you,"  Dorothea  explained  as 
she  took  Miss  Flagler's  hand.  "  How  long  have 
you  been  here  ?  " 

"  I  sailed  about  a  fortnight  after  you  did.  I 
would  have  come  to  see  you  if  I'd  known  your 
address." 

Dorothea  turned  toward  the  bench  that  Miss 
Flagler  had  just  left.  "  Let  us  sit  down,"  said 
she. 

The  girl  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  her  ex- 
periences since  her  departure  from  New  York. 
She  had  been  sketching  at  Barbizon,  and  had 
just  run  over  to  London  for  two  or  three  days 
with  a  few  members  of  her  party.  No,  Mr. 
Roberts  hadn't  come.  He'd  been  obliged  to 
stay  at  Barbizon  with  the  class. '  Miss  Flagler 
had  promised  to  meet  her  chaperon,  Mrs. 
Dean,  and  her  husband,  in  the  park  at  five 


!66  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

o'clock ;  she'd  been  waiting  nearly  an  hour. 
Then  she  and  the  Deans  were  going  to  dine 
at  the  Criterion.  It  was  lively  there  at  night ; 
all  kinds  of  people  went,  and  they  had  a  good 
table  d'hote  for  three  shillings  and  six,  with 
music.  And,  oh,  Mr.  Roberts  had  been  so  nice 
and  attentive  ever  since  they  came  away  !  Miss 
Flagler  looked  very  knowing,  and  Dorothea 
drew  conclusions,  but  did  not  ask  questions. 
"When  Dorothea  had  given  an  account  of  her 
own  movements,  the  girl  cried  : 

"  Of  course,  you  know  Mr.  French  is  in  Lon- 
don, don't  you  ?  Can  you  let  me  have  his  ad- 
dress? I  want  to  send  him  a  card  to  let  him 
know  where  we  are  when  he  returns  to  Paris." 

When  Dorothea  gave  the  address,  she  ut- 
tered an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  Russell  Square !  Why,  that's  quite  near  us. 
I  suppose  he  told  you  the  news  about  his  wife  ? 
Isn't  it  terrible  ?  " 

"  No,  he  hasn't  told  me  any  news  about  her. 
I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Mrs.  Swayne  wrote  me  from  Paris.  She's 
in  the  St.  Lazare  Hospital.  They  say  she's 
dying — Mr.  French's  wife,  I  mean." 

The  blood  left  Dorothea's  face. 

"  Dying  ?  "  she  repeated. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  ^7 

Miss  Flagler's  black  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
her. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Swayne  had  it  from  the  D'Ar- 
cys." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  knows  about  it,"  said 
Dorothea. 

"  Mrs.  Swayne  wondered  about  that.  But 
she  said  it  was  none  of  her  business,  and  she 
didn't  propose  to  tell  him." 

Miss  Flagler  then  launched  into  talk  about 
Aleck  French's  wife ;  as  Dorothea  had  heard 
most  of  it  before  she  did  not  care  to  listen  to  it 
again.  Indeed,  she  did  not  hear  more  than  half 
the  girl  was  saying. 

"  Aleck  French's  wife  is  dying  !  "  These 
words  kept  repeating  themselves  in  her  mind. 
Then  she  began  to  ask  herself  what  she  ought 
to  do.  Ought  she  to  tell  him  ?  She  thought  of 
Mrs.  Swayne's  remark,  that  it  was  none  of  her 
business.  Then  was  it  any  of  her  business? 
Would  it  not  be  indelicate  of  her  to  say  any- 
thing about  it  to  him  ?  Her  indecision  gave  her 
a  feeling  of  repulsion  for  Miss  Flagler.  She 
wanted  to  hurry  from  the  park,  to  be  alone  and 
walk  fast,  to  decide  definitely  what  to  do. 

"  Aleck  French's  wife  is  dying !  "  She  felt 
angry  that  the  woman  should  be  dying,  then- 


l68  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

that  she  should  ever  have  lived.  What  right  had 
she  had  to  entrap  Aleck  ?  Then,  why  should 
she  herself  be  dragged  into  this?  The  next 
moment  she  was  ashamed  of  her  feeling  ;  but 
she  still  wanted  to  get  away  from  Miss  Flag- 
ler.  She  cut  short  the  conversation,  saying  she 
must  hurry  home. 

Afterward  she  realized  that  in  her  desire  to 
be  alone  she  had  treated  the  girl  almost  rudely. 
She  hurried  out  of  the  park,  her  mind  in  tumult 
and  torment.  Although  it  was  nearly  half  past 
six,  she  decided  to  walk  home.  Ought  she  to 
let  him  know  ?  she  kept  asking  herself.  She 
must  decide  before  she  reached  home.  When 
halfway  home,  she  was  still  undecided.  Oxford 
Street  was  crowded  with  people,  and,  though 
she  walked  fast,  she  had  to  make  her  way  slowly. 
Suddenly  she  came  face  to  face  with  a  tele- 
graph messenger. 

"  Can  you  take  a  message  for  me  ? "  she 
asked. 

He  nodded. 

"  Then  come  into  this  doorway  and  I'll  write 
one." 

He  followed  her  and  offered  a  telegraph 
form.  She  held  it  against  her  cardcase  and 
.wrote  : 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  169 

"  Miss  Flagler  has  just  told  me  that  your 
wife  is  dying  in  Paris,  in  the  hospital  of  St. 
Lazare.  DOROTHEA." 

When  the  boy  had  taken  the  telegram  and 
disappeared  in  the  surging  crowd  she  felt  re- 
lieved and  hurried  in  the  opposite  direction,  as 
if  anxious  to  put  distance  between  the  mes- 
senger and  herself.  On  reaching  home  she 
found  the  curtains  of  the  drawing  room  drawn 
and  Wood  hovering  about  the  table,  lighting 
the  candles.  Only  one  plate  was  laid. 

"  Has  my  mother  gone  to  bed,  Wood  ?"  she 
asked,  throwing  off  her  wraps  and  breathing 
hard. 

"  Yes,  miss.  She  told  me  to  tell  you  she  had 
a  headache." 

"  Isn't  she  going  to  eat  anything?  " 

"  She  said  I  might  bring  her  in  a  little  of  the 
broth:" 

Dorothea  sat  down  and  spread  her  napkin  in 
her  lap.  Her  cheeks  were  glowing  from  her 
walk,  and  she  felt  nervous  and  excited  ;  she 
could  not  help  thinking  it  was  fortunate  that  her 
mother  had  taken  to  her  bed,  her  refuge  in  all 
trials.  Of  course,  Aleck  French,  after  receiving 
the  telegram,  would  appear  in  the  lodgings  as. 


I/O 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


soon  as  he  could  ;  if  her  mother  were  present  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  discuss  the  sit- 
uation. It  would  be  odious  if  she  were  obliged 
to  follow  him  into  the  hall  and  whisper  the  de- 
tails of  Miss  Flagler's  information.  The  tele- 
gram would  probably  reach  him  in  an  hour, 
and  it  would  take  him  half  an  hour  to  reach 
Mandeville  Place.  She  looked  at  her  watch, 
and  saw  that  he  could  not  come  before  eight  at 
the  earliest. 

She  ate  little,  and  when  she  surrendered  her 
fish,  which  she  left  almost  untouched,  Wood 
looked  grieved. 

"  You  haven't  any  appetite  to-night,  miss." 

"  No,  I  don't  feel  hungry." 

"  I  always  like  to  see  people  eat  well,"  Wood 
continued,  as  he  laid  the  plate  on  the  side- 
board. "  Nothing  makes  me  so  happy  as  to 
please  people,  miss." 

"  You  please  me  very  much,  Wood,"  said 
Dorothea.  "  My  mother  and  I  have  often 
spoken  of  the  good  service  you  and  your  wife 
give  us." 

Wood's  sad  thin  face  lighted  with  pleasure. 

"  Thank  you,  miss,"  he  said  softly. 

Dorothea  was  too  depressed  to  be  amused 
by  this  episode ;  she  could  think  of  nothing  ex- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  j^i 

cept  the  call  that  she  expected.  When  she  had 
finished  dinner  she  told  Wood  that  if  any  one 
came  during  the  evening  her  mother  was  not  to 
be  disturbed. 

"  The  sleep  will  do  her  good,"  she  added, 
feeling  guilty. 

For  the  next  hour  she  was  unable  to  interest 
herself  in  anything ;  she  couldn't  even  keep 
still. 

Eight  o'clock  struck  and  he  did  not  appear  ; 
between  eight  and  nine  the  door  bell  rang 
several  times.  After  each  time  she  listened  for 
Wood's  tap  without  hearing  it. 

At  ten  o'clock  she  told  herself  that  he  would 
not  come  ;  he  had  taken  the  night  train  for 
Paris.  The  house  grew  quiet  and  the  only 
sound  she  could  hear  was  the  rolling  of  cabs  on 
the  pavement. 

At  twenty  minutes  past  ten  the  bell  rang, 
again,  and  Dorothea  heard  Wood  gliding 
through  the  hall.  She  listened,  and  recognised 
Aleck  French's  voice.  Then  she  opened  the 
door  to  receive  him.  As  Wood  turned  away 
she  put  one  finger  on  her  lips. 

"  Mother  has  gone  to  bed,"  she  whispered. 

His  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  had  an  ex- 
pression that  she  had  never  seen  in  them  be- 


Ij2  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

fore ;  he  looked  as  if  some  one  had  just  insulted 
him. 

"  I  only  got  your  telegram  a  few  minutes 
ago,"  he  said.  "  I  came  right  over  in  a  cab. 
When  did  you  see  Miss  Flagler  ? " 

"  This  afternoon  in  the  park." 

"  Did  she — did  she  tell  you  anything  else  ?  " 

"  No.  She  didn't  know  anything  else.  I 
told  you  all  she  told  me." 

For  a  moment  he  stood  without  speaking. 
Then  he  looked  at  her  quietly. 

"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  sit  down  ?  " 
he  said. 

She  sat  on  the  window  seat,  and  he  took  a 
place  beside  her.  He  wore  a  light  overcoat, 
and  as  he  leaned  forward  he  held  his  brown 
Derby  between  his  hands. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  he  said. 

"  It  seems  to  me  there's  only  one  thing  to 
do." 

He  looked  up  quickly  into  her  face.  "  What's 
that?"  Then  he  looked  down  again. 

"  Go  to  her." 

"  Go  to  her !  "  he  repeated  almost  scornfully. 
"  A  lot  of  good  that  would  do."  Then  he  raised 
his  head  again.  "  I  don't  believe  she's  dying," 
he  cried  passionately.  "  It's  a  trick.  It's  one 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  173 

of  her  games.  Oh,  she's  tried  that  kind  of  thing 
on  me  before.  She  did  it  once  too  often." 

Dorothea  waited  a  moment  before  she  re- 
plied : 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  a  trick.  Miss 
Flagler  could  have  no  motive  in  telling  me,  and 
Mrs.  Swayne  couldn't  have  any  in  telling  her" 

"  Mrs.  Swayne — who  is  Mrs.  Swayne  ?  I've 
never  heard  of  her  before." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  her,"  said 
Dorothea,  with  a  touch  of  resentment  in  her 
tone. 

He  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  carpet  again,  and 
kept  them  there  for  several  minutes.  Dorothea 
could  hear  the  regular  ticking  of  the  clock  on 
the  mantelpiece,  and  she  tried  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  count  the  beats ;  she  kept  saying 
to  herself  that  she  had  no  right  to  urge  him  to 
go  to  his  wife ;  he  must  know  better  than  she 
could  what  his  duty  was ;  nevertheless,  she  was 
determined  that  he  should  go. 

When  he  spoke  again  there  was  a  suggestion 
of  struggle  in  his  voice. 

"  I  suppose  you're  right.  I  ought  to  go. 
She's  my  wife — she — I've  married  her." 

His  hat  rolled  on  the  floor,  and  he  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands. 

12 


174 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


"  I  hope  she  will  die !  "  he  groaned. 

"  Aleck ! " 

Then  he  subsided,  and  she  waited  for  him  to 
make  up  his  mind  what  to  do.  When  he  looked 
up  she  thought  his  generosity  had  won ;  he 
seemed  more  at  ease  than  he  had  been  since  he 
entered  the  room. 

"  I  can't  possibly  go,"  he  said.  "  It  wouldn't 
do  any  good.  I'll  send  her  money." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  rose  as  if  about 
to  leave. 

"  I  think  you'll  be  sorry,"  said  Dorothea, 
rising  too. 

For  an  instant  he  seemed  shaken. 

"  I  don't  think  you  can — I  don't  believe  you 
can  understand  the  circumstances." 

"  I  understand  that  she  is  a  woman — and 
your  wife.  If  she  has  made  you — if  she  has 
wronged  you,  it  will  be  all  the  more  generous 
of  you  to  forgive  her." 

"  There  are  some  things  a  man  can't  for- 
give," he  said  doggedly,  passing  his  hand  across 
his  hat. 

"  Then  men  are  less  generous  than  women. 
Women  forgive  men  a  great  many  things- — " 

His  face,  which  had  been  very  pale,  turned 
scarlet,  and  when  she  saw  the  interpretation  he 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


175 


had  put  upon  her  words  her  own  face  flushed, 
too. 

He  looked  away  from  her. 

"  I  know  I'm  a  coward,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are  a  coward,  Aleck. 
And  if  you  will  go  to  your  wife  now  you'll 
show  that  you  are  not." 

"  I  swore  I'd  never  go  near  her  again.  I 
stood  it  as  long  as  I  could.  I  know  how  it 
seems  to  you " 

"  You  surely  don't  consider  such'  an  oath  as 
that  binding?"  she  said,  cutting  him  short. 

"  It  would  be  too  late  to  go  now,  anyway," 
he  replied,  taking  his  gloves  from  his  pocket. 
"  The  last  train  has  left.  I'll  think  about  it  to- 
night, and  if  I  decide  to  go,  I'll  start  in  the 
morning." 

She  was  about  to  let  him  leave  the  room, 
but  when  he  offered  her  his  hand  and  said, 
"  I'm  sorry  that  you've  been  dragged  into  this 
business,"  a  sudden  impulse  moved  her  to  make 
another  appeal : 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  to  go,  Aleck. 
If  your  wife  is  dying  it  can  do  you  no  harm, 
and  it  may  do  her  good.  At  any  rate,  it  will  be 
a  satisfaction  to  you  afterward  that  you've 
done  it." 


176  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

He  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  rubbing  his 
glove  on  his  right  hand,  and  he  kept  his  eyes 
away  from  her  face. 

"  You  know  I'd  do  anything  in  the  world  for 
you,"  he  replied,  "  except  that." 

"  Then  you  don't  care  for  my  good  opinion?" 

He  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
staring  at  his  hands.  His  gloves  were  tight,  and 
he  had  trouble  in  getting  them  on.  As  he 
laboured  over  the  second  one,  he  seemed  to  be 
considering  her  question.  As  he  buttoned  it, 
he  said  : 

"  Shall  I  lose  your  good  opinion  by  not 
going  ?  " 

"  You'll  certainly  gain  it  if  you  go." 

He  flushed  again  and  looked  into  her  face. 

"  I  believe  that  you  are  the  best  woman  in 
the  world,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  will  go,  Aleck  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  impulsively  extended  her  hand  again. 

"  Good-bye.  I  am  sure  you'll  be  glad  some 
day." 

He  held  her  hand  for  a  moment  and  then 
walked  to  the  door.  There  he  turned  and  said : 

"  I'll  write  to  you  from  Paris." 

Dorothea  stood  still  until  she  heard  the  out- 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 

side  door  close  and  his  steps  die  away  up  the 
street.  Then  she  lighted  one  of  the  candles  on 
the  mantel  and  turned  out  the  gas.  But  instead 
of  going  to  her  room  she  went  to  the  window 
and  opened  the  curtains. 

The  street  was  deserted  save  for  the  presence 
of  a  policeman,  who  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
house  in  the  light  of  the  gas  lamps.  She  was 
wondering  if  Aleck  French  was  walking  home ; 
he  would  probably  sit  up  late,  packing.  Then 
she  tried  to  imagine  what  would  happen  to  him 
the  next  day  ;  after  reaching  Paris  she  thought 
of  him  as  taking  a  cab  and  going  at  once  to  the 
hospital  of  St.  Lazare.  The  white  haggard 
woman  with  feverish  black  eyes  that  she  pic- 
tured to  herself  lying  on  a  cot — surely  she  didn't 
belong  to  Aleck !  What  a  feeling  of  loathing 
he  would  have  as  he  approached  her  and  spoke 
to  her  in  her  own  language!  Of  course  he 
spoke  of  it  badly  ;  it  seemed  to  her  absurd  that 
he  should  speak  it  at  all ;  his  natural  tongue  was 
English,  with  a  marked  American  accent. 

When  she  reached  the  corridor  leading  to 
her  room  she  heard  Wood's  discreet  tap.  She 
tiptoed  back,  and  without  opening  the  door 
asked  him  softly  what  he  wanted.  He  replied 
that  he  wanted  to  know  if  miss  wouldn't  take  a 


i;8  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

light  luncheon  before  going  to  bed ;  he  had 
some  cold  chicken  and  some  claret  for  her. 
Dorothea  smiled  and  thanked  him,  and  said  she 
didn't  care  to  eat  anything.  Then  she  went 
quietly  into  her  mother's  room.  Through  the 
darkness  she  could  see  two  shining  eyes. 

"I  thought  you  were  asleep,  mother,"  she 
said. 

"  So  I  was,  but  I  woke  up  a  few  minutes  ago. 
Didn't  I  hear  you  talking  with  some  one  ?  " 

"  Wood  came  to  ask  if  I  wanted  something 
to  eat." 

"Oh!" 

"  Good-night,  mother." 

"  Good-night." 


XIII. 

DOROTHEA  slept  badly,  and  woke  so  early  in 
the  morning  that  she  had  to  wait  an  hour  before 
her  mother  was  ready  for  breakfast.  In  order 
to  distract  herself,  she  devoted  this  hour  to 
painting.  When  the  clock  struck  nine  she 
thought  of  Aleck  French  as  probably  getting 
ready  for  Paris.  Her  mother  had  promised  to 
go  shopping  with  Mrs.  Ladd  in  the  afternoon ; 
Mrs.  Ladd  was  to  call  for  her  at  half  past  two. 
To  escape  the  call  Dorothea  took  herself  off  to 
South  Kensington  Museum,  which  she  had  not 
yet  visited. 

There  she  found  a  number  of  people  stand- 
ing in  groups  in  front  of  the  larger  canvases,  or 
strolling  listlessly  from  one  picture  to  another. 
Some  of  the  pictures  she  knew  through  copies, 
and  these  she  was  glad  to  see  in  the  originals. 
After  looking  at  several  of  them  she  was  at- 
tracted by  a  small  reproduction  of  a  Greek 
temple  by  a  Dutch  artist  whose  work  she  rec- 

179 


!8o  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

ognised  at  once.  A  tall  man  in  a  frock  coat 
was  bending  before  it  and  examining  it  closely. 
She  stood  a  few  feet  behind  him  at  one  side. 
The  work  seemed  to  her  admirable  in  composi- 
tion and  colouring  ;  the  gleaming  white  marble 
of  the  temple  was  perfectly  reproduced  and 
stood  out  against  the  deep-blue  sky  ;  on  the 
steps  were  a  group  of  girls,  holding  poppies  in 
their  hands  ;  even  the  petals  of  the  flowers  had 
been  clearly  outlined  and  painted.  The  man  in 
front  of  the  picture  seemed  to  become  suddenly 
aware  of  Dorothea's  presence,  for  he  turned 
quickly  and  said  : 

"  Oh,  I  beg — Miss  Wayne  ?  Is  it  possi- 
ble ?  " 

"  I  didn't  recognise  you,"  she  said,  taking 
his  hand,  and  losing  her  composure  for  an  in- 
stant. 

"  I  don't  often  turn  my  back  to  you,"  Sir 
Hubert  laughed. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  she  asked,  indicating  the 
picture,  to  hide  her  embarrassment. 

"  Yes,  very  much — though,  I  confess,  I  don't 
approve  of  it.  This  is  just  the  kind  of  work  the 
conservatives  would  like." 

"  Yes.  The  technique  is  wonderful,"  she 
said. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  igl 

"It's  like  one  of  the  old  masters,  isn't  it? 
Most  of  the  new  men  seem  to  despise  detail." 

"  I  sometimes  think  it  is  pure  laziness  on 
their  part,"  said  Dorothea,  with  a  smile.  "  They 
don't  want  to  take  the  trouble  to  be  thorough." 

This  remark  seemed  to  strike  him  as  hu- 
morous, for  he  laughed  immoderately.  "  I 
shall  tell  Wilson  about  that.  You  know  his 
work,  I  suppose  ?  He's  mad  on  the  subject  of 
impressionism.  He's  the  one  that  converted  me 
years  ago." 

"  We  shall  have  to  bring  you  back  to  the 
true  faith,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  acknowledge  that  some  of  the  impression- 
ist work  seems  ridiculous  to  me.  I  saw  a  new 
picture  of  Faure's  the  other  day  and  I  couldn't 
make  out  what  it  was.  It  seemed  to  consist  of 
a  purple  haze,  and  it  might  have  passed  for 
half  a  dozen  things.  I  believe  the  artist  called 
it  Winter,  but  I  heard  a  lady  describe  it  after- 
ward as  a  field  of  heather.  But  when  an  im- 
pressionist does  do  a  good  thing,  it  is  marvel- 
lously fine,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  When  a  genius  is  an  impressionist  I  can't 
help  admiring  his  work,"  said  Dorothea,  smil- 
ing. "  But  don't  you  think  that  impressionism 
gives  an  excuse  to  painters  that  haven't  genius 


1 82  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

to  do  things  carelessly  and  to  substitute  eccen- 
tricity and  affectation  in  place  of  it?" 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  quite  right.  I  shall  want 
to  think  that  over." 

"  But  I  really  know  very  little  about  it,"  said 
Dorothea,  feeling  that  she  had  been  altogether 
too  didactic.  "  I've  had  it  dinned  into  my  ears 
all  my  life  that  only  the  work  that  was  perfect 
in  detail  could  last." 

"  But  the  impressionist  would  say  that 
there's  no  such  thing  as  perfection  in  detail,  un- 
less it  means  that  detail  should  be  subordinated 
perfectly.  It's  quite  confusing  to  a  layman — all 
these  contradictory  theories  about  art." 

"  It's  confusing  to  those  who  try  to  paint  a 
little,  too.  That's  why  I  pin  my  faith  to  one 
school." 

"  I  suppose  that's  the  safest  way." 

They  had  been  standing  in  front  of  the 
Dutchman's  picture  and  Sir  Hubert  turned  to  it 
again  and  pointed  out  bits  in  it  that  seemed  to 
him  especially  fine.  Then  he  called  attention  to 
a  figure  that  seemed  to  be  a  little  out  of  draw- 
ing. No  one  but  an  artist,  Dorothea  said  to  her- 
self, would  have  noticed  it. 

"  I  think  you  must  paint  a  little,  yourself," 
she  said. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  183 

"  Only  a  little — a  very  little — in  the  merest 
amateur  way." 

"  Did  you  study  while  you  were  in  Paris?" 

"  Yes — a  little.  But  I  didn't  work  much, 
you  see.  I  didn't  go  in  for  the  thing  in  dead 
earnest,  as  most  of  the  other  fellows  were  do- 
ing. I  felt  as  if  I  were  a  bit  of  a  loafer,  and 
they,  of  course,  never  considered  me  one  of 
themselves." 

They  walked  along  one  side  of  the  room, 
stopping  occasionally  as  a  picture  attracted 
their  attention.  Sir  Hubert  pointed  out  his 
favourites,  and  most  of  them  Dorothea  liked 
too.  He  knew  nearly  every  picture  in  the 
place,  he  said ;  he  had  been  at  the  museum  hun- 
dreds of  times.  "  In  one  respect,"  he  added, 
"  I'm  different  from  most  of  my  countrymen.  I 
know  the  sights  of  London  almost  as  well  as  a 
travelling  American  does.  I  suppose  you've 
seen  most  of  them." 

Dorothea  replied  that  she  had  not,  as  yet ; 
she  hadn't  even  seen  the  Tower. 

"Then  I'll  take  you  there,  if  you'll  let 
me.  I'm  a  great  authority  on  the  Tower. 
I'll  be  almost  as  good  as  one  of  the  guides. 
What  do  you  say  to  to-morrow  after- 
noon?" 


!84  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  That  will  suit  me  if  my  mother  isn't  ill  or 
hasn't  anything  else  for  me  to  do." 

They  wandered  into  some  of  the  other  rooms 
and  discussed  the  pictures  there.  Dorothea  was 
surprised  by  the  keenness  of  his  criticisms ;  it 
made  her  realize  how  much  she  herself  had  to 
learn.  When  it  was  time  for  her  to  leave  the 
place  Sir  Hubert  asked  if  he  might  put  her 
down  at  Mandeville  Place,  and  they  entered  a 
hansom  together.  It  was  not  until  Dorothea 
had  nearly  reached  home  that  she  felt  uncom- 
fortable from  being  in  a  cab  in  London  with  a 
man  she  knew  so  slightly. 

Her  mother,  however,  had  no  such  scruple. 
It  was  pleasure,  not  annoyance,  that  made 
her  exclaim,  when  her  daughter  entered  the 
house : 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  pick  up  Sir 
Hubert  Downes?" 

"  I  met  him  at  the  South  Kensington  Mu- 
seum," Dorothea  replied,  as  she  removed  her 
cape. 

"  Did  he  speak  about  your  going  down  to 
Broadoaks  ? " 

Dorothea  looked  at  her  mother  in  surprise. 
"Going  down  to  Broadoaks?  What  do  you 
mean?" 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  185 

"  Lady  Dowries  was  at  the  Ladds'.  She 
wants  us  to  go  down  to  Broadoaks  next  Satur- 
day for  a  week." 

"  We  can't  go,  of  course." 

"  Can't  go  ?  Why  can't  we  go  ?  I'm  sure  it 
would  be  a  great  deal  better  than  staying  in  this 
poky  old  place." 

Dorothea's  head  disappeared  for  a  moment 
behind  the  door  of  her  wardrobe ;  her  mother 
could  see  only  her  feet  and  the  lower  part  of  her 
skirt ;  so  she  addressed  these  : 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  oppose  everything  I 
want  to  do." 

"  I  don't  want  to  oppose  you,  mother,"  Doro- 
thea replied,  her  voice  sounding  as  if  it  were 
muffled  by  the  dresses  in  the  wardrobe.  "  But 
I  can't  understand  why  you  should  want  to  go 
to  Lady  Downes'.  We've  only  met  her  a  few 
times,  and  we  shall  simply  put  ourselves  under 
obligations." 

"  Well,  we've  come  here  to  see  English  life, 
and  I'd  like  to  know  how  we're  going  to  see  it 
shut  up  in  four  walls  like  this.  Of  course,  you 
can  go  round  to  art  galleries  and  have  a  good 
time,  while  I  stay  at  home.  I  know  the  country 
would  do  me  good,  and  that's  why " 

"  Very  well,  mother,"  said  Dorothea,  wearily. 


186  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  If  you  want  to  go  to  Broadoaks  I'm  willing. 
Only  I  think  we  ought  not  to  promise  to  stay 
more  than  three  or  four  days." 

Now  that  the  victory  was  won  Mrs.  Wayne 
had  a  moment  of  silent  complacency.  Then  she 
resumed  :  "  It  seems  very  strange  to  me  that  he 
didn't  speak  of  it." 

"  He  ?    Speak  of  what  ?  " 

"  Of  the  invitation — Sir  Hubert  Downes." 

"  I  suppose  he  wanted  to  give  us  a  chance  to 
refuse,"  the  girl  replied,  controlling  her  irrita- 
tion. 

The  day's  adventures  had  tired  Dorothea, 
and  before  dinner  she  jlay  on  the  couch  in  the 
drawing  room  and  tried  to  sleep ;  but  in  spite 
of  herself  her  thoughts  turned  again  to  Aleck 
French.  It  was  after  five  o'clock ;  he  must  be 
in  Paris  by  this  time.  She  wondered  what  he 
was  doing,  what  his  feelings  were  ;  and  she  fan- 
cied a  thousand  wild  impossibilities.  The  more 
she  thought  about  him  the  more  serious  she  be- 
came, and  at  dinner  her  face  was  flushed  and 
she  ate  little ;  she  knew  that  her  mother  was 
watching  her  covertly ;  so  she  tried  to  appear 
as  unconcerned  as  possible.  Mrs.  Wayne  was 
putting  her  own  constructions  upon  her 
daughter's  preoccupation  and  indifference  to 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

food;   she  gave  her   fancy  free  rein,  and    her 
thoughts  were  quite  as  wild  as  Dorothea's. 

After  dinner  Mrs.  Wayne  became  immersed 
in  a  letter  to  the  Misses  Marbury,  whom  she 
had  strangely  neglected  since  her  arrival  in 
England.  These  ladies,  however,  had  sent  her 
minute  chronicles  of  their  doings ;  they  had  re- 
mained in  New  York  two  weeks  after  Mrs. 
Wayne's  departure,  where  they  had  suffered 
from  loneliness  and  the  heat.  Maple  Valley, 
however,  had  surpassed  in  beauty  even  their 
expectations.  There  were  some  delightful  peo- 
ple at  their  boarding  house — Prof.  Lawson  and 
his  wife,  of  Amherst  Prof.  Lawson  had  writ- 
ten a  book  on  biology,  and  he  also  took  a  great 
interest  in  mediaeval  history  and  art.  They 
often  went  to  walk  with  him  in  the  early  even- 
ings, and  he  instructed  them  with  regard  to 
the  vegetable  and  plant  life  around  them.  The 
sunsets  in  Maple  Valley  were  grand.  Miss 
Millicent  attempted  a  description  of  a  particu- 
larly fine  one,  but  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  page 
she  ended  with  the  remark  that,  after  all,  it 
couldn't  be  described.  The  sisters  supposed 
that  Mrs.  Wayne  and  Miss  Dorothea  were  en- 
joying England.  Had  they  been  at  the  art 
galleries  in  London  yet?  Miss  Sophia  called 


188  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

attention  to  a  particularly  fine  picture  by  Her- 
komer  in  the  Grafton  Gallery.  She  had  read  a 
description  of  it  in  the  Chronicle.  She'd  give 
anything  in  the  world  to  be  able  to  see  it,  but, 
as  she  couldn't,  Mrs.  Wayne  must  see  it  for  her. 
Mrs.  Wayne,  however,  had  no  intention  of 
doing  any  such  thing.  Indeed,  the  letters  of 
the  sisters  disappointed  her ;  they  struck  alto- 
gether too  high  a  note.  She  would  have  pre- 
ferred the  personal  detail.  Only  a  sudden  de- 
sire to  tell  them  all  about  her  daughter's  social 
success  persuaded  her  to  reply  to  their  commu- 
nications. Now,  however,  that  she  had  begun, 
she  found  herself  turning  over  page  after  page 
of  description  and  anecdote,  beginning  with 
an  account  of  her  meeting  with  Mrs.  Ladd, 
and  quoting  largely  from  the  social  leader's 
revelations  of  American  and  English  society. 
Then  she  went  on  to  reveal  the  eccentricities 
of  London  life  and  of  the  English  character  as 
she  had  observed  it,  paying  special  reference  to 
the  Downes  and  to  Susan,  Countess  of  Blooms- 
bury,  whose  title  had  profoundly  impressed  her 
imagination.  As  she  wrote  she  felt  inspired  by 
the  picture  that  came  to  her  mind  of  the  flutter- 
ing agitation  of  the  sisters  when  they  should 
receive  her  letter ;  they  would  retire  to  their 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  189 

room  and  read  it  aloud  with  many  exclamations 
and  knowing  comments.  In  the  glow  of  the 
communication  she  felt  the  spiritual  exaltation 
that  her  earnest  talks  with  them  about  Doro- 
thea had  always  given  her.  She  realized  now, 
for  the  first  time  since  the  separation  from 
them,  how  sympathetic  they  had  been,  and  she 
blamed  herself  for  not  having  answered  their 
letters  before. 

At  about  half  past  nine,  just  as  Mrs.  Wayne 
was  about  to  begin  the  climax  of  her  disclo- 
sures, the  announcement  of  the  invitation  to 
visit  the  Downes,  the  door  bell  rang.  Dorothea 
started  and  dropped  in  her  lap  the  book  she  had 
been  trying  to  read. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  can  be  any  one  for  us?" 
she  said. 

"  Of  course  it  isn't,"  Mrs.  Wayne  replied, 
without  looking  up  from  her  writing.  "  This 
time  of  night! " 

Dorothea  heard  Wood  glide  to  the  door, 
and  a  moment  later  he  was  standing  before  her. 

"  A  telegram  for  you,  miss." 

Before  opening  it  she  went  back  to  her  seat. 
Then  she  quietly  tore  the  end  of  the  envelope 
and  read  the  inclosure.    Her  mother  was  watch- 
ing her. 
13 


JQO  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"What  is  it?" 

For  a  moment  Dorothea  said  nothing.  Then 
she  replied  :  "  Aleck  French's  wife  is  dead." 

Mrs.  Wayne  looked  dazed.  She  dropped 
her  pen  and  stood  up  between  her  chair  and 
the  table. 

"  Dead  !  "  she  repeated. 

"  Yes ;  she  died  this  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Wayne's  eyes  flashod,  and  she  grew 
white  around  the  lips. 

"  Let  me  see  that  telegram,"  she  said. 

Dorothea  passed  to  her  the  thin  slip  of 
paper,  and  she  ran  her  eyes  over  the  typewrit- 
ten line : 

"Paris,  July  27.  She  died  this  afternoon, 
half  an  hour  before  I  got  here.  ALECK." 

"  So  you  knew  about  this?"  said  Mrs.  Wayne, 
her  mind  flashing  back  to  Aleck  French's  last 
call,  and  running  here  and  there  in  search  of 
proof  for  the  suspicion  that  had  taken  shape  in 
her  consciousness.  Aleck  French  had  not  had 
an  opportunity  to  speak  to  Dorothea  alone  dur- 
ing his  last  call.  Perhaps  she  had  seen  him 
since  then.  The  night  before,  as  she  lay  in  bed, 
she  thought  she  had  heard  his  voice ;  now  she 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  !9! 

was  sure  she  had,  and,  according  to  her  habit, 
when  her  daughter  acknowledged  that  she  knew 
Mrs.  French  had  been  ill,  she  blurted  out  her 
conviction : 

"  He  was  here  last  night.  I  suppose,"  she 
added  sarcastically,  "  he  came  sneaking  round 
late,  when  he  knew  I'd  be  in  bed." 

Dorothea  began  to  breathe  hard. 

"  Mother!" 

"  Don't  call  me  mother,"  cried  Mrs.  Wayne, 
losing  all  control  of  herself.  "  I'm  ashamed  of 
you.  I  used  to  think  you  had  some  sense  of 
decency.  I  asked  you  last  night  if  any  one  had 
been  here,  and  you  lied  to  me  ;  but  that  isn't 
the  worst  you've  done.  I  don't  wonder  you 
were  ashamed  to  tell  me  the  truth,"  she  went 
on  breathlessly,  growing  more  angry.  "  Ever 
since  you've  been  in  London  you've  acted 
outrageously,  meeting  him  in  art  galleries  and 
all  kinds  of  public  places.  Before  he  was  mar- 
ried you  didn't  care  a  snap  of  your  finger  about 
him — no,  not  a  snap !  Don't  you  suppose  that 
I  know  how  you've  been  carrying  on  for  the 
last  three  weeks?  Now  that  that  disgraceful 
woman  he  threw  you  over  for  is  dead,  I  sup- 
pose you'll  want  to  get  him  back  again.  I 
should  think " 


1 92 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


."  Mother  !  " 

Dorothea  had  risen  from  her  chair,  and  the 
telegram  curled  on  the  floor  in  front  of  her 
where  the  widow  had  thrown  it.  Her  face 
had  grown  white  and  her  nostrils  were  quiv- 
ering. 

"  I  won't  have  you  talk  to  me  like  that,"  she 
went  on  more  quietly.  "  I've  endured  enough 
since  I've  been  over  here,  but  I  won't  be  in- 
sulted even  by  my  own  mother.  It's  true 
that  I  did  lie  to  you  last  night,  but  I  lied 
simply  because  I  knew  you  would  put  a 
wrong  interpretation  on  Aleck  French's  visit. 
You  misinterpret  everything  I  do.  You  treat 
me  as  if  I  had  no  self-respect,  no  character ! 
You " 

Tears  had  been  gathering  in  Mrs.  Wayne's 
eyes,  and  now  they  overflowed.  "  To  think 
that  you  should  talk  to  me  like  this!"  she 
sobbed,  throwing  up  her  arms  and  then  clasp- 
ing her  hands  over  her  face.  "  My  own  daugh- 
ter, too  !  To  think  that  I  should  have  brought 
you  into  the  world  and  reared  you,  and  then 
have  you  turn  on  me  like  this  !  I've  never  had 
any  one  talk  to  me  so  in  my  life  ! " 

She  threw  herself  in  her  chair  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands  on  the  table.  Dorothea 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  193 

picked  up  the  telegram  from  the  floor,  tore  it, 
and  dropped  the  pieces  into  the  fireplace.  Then 
she  left  the  room  and  softly  closed  the  door 
leading  into  the  bedrooms,  while  her  mother 
sobbed  out  her  misery. 


XIV. 

DOROTHEA  knew  that  her  mother  did  not 
really  believe  the  charges  she  had  made  against 
her,  and  with  this  knowledge  she  tried  to  console 
herself.  The  accusations  still  hurt,  however. 
She  ceased  to  think  about  the  news  that  had 
caused  the  quarrel,  or,  rather,  this  was  so  inter- 
mingled with  the  quarrel  that  she  could  not 
think  of  it  apart.  After  a  time  she  straightened 
out  the  confusion  of  her  thoughts,  and  was  able 
to  look  at  the  situation  in  all  its  bearings.  For 
Aleck's  sake  she  could  not  help  feeling  glad  that 
the  woman  was  dead.  Of  course,  this  would 
have  no  effect  upon  herself. 

The  next  morning  her  mother  took  break- 
fast in  bed,  and  did  not  appear  in  the  drawing 
room  till  ten  o'clock  ;  so  she  did  not  see  the 
letter  from  Paris  that  Dorothea  found  at  her 
plate. 

"  I  had  a  rough  passage  across  the  channel," 
it  said,  "and  I  was  fearfully  sick.  I  didn't  feel 

194 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


195 


much  better  when  I  reached  Paris.  I  took  a 
cab  to  the  hospital,  and  found  that  she  had  died 
a  little  before  five  o'clock.  She  had  been  there 
a  week  with  pneumonia,  and  she'd  been  uncon- 
scious for  three  days.  So  even  if  I'd  gone  last 
night,  it  wouldn't  have  done  any  good.  I  shall 
stay  here  in  Paris  for  a  few  days,  and  see  to 
some  business  things  and  try  to  make  some  plan 
for  the  future.  I  cabled  father  last  night,  but  I 
sha'n't  get  an  answer  till  to-morrow — if  at  all.  I 
shall  hope  to  see  you  in  London  again." 

That  was  all.  She  felt  disappointed.  But 
what  more  could  she  have  expected  ?  He 
had  surely  given  details  enough.  Yet  she  would 
have  liked  to  know  about  the  woman ;  she  won- 
dered if  Aleck  would  let  her  see  a  photograph 
of  her  sometime.  Then  she  felt  ashamed  of  her 
curiosity. 

Mrs.  Wayne  made  no  mention  of  Aleck 
French  ;  she  simply  ignored  the  unpleasantness 
of  the  evening  before,  and  proceeded  to  discuss 
the  coming  visit  to'  the  Downes.  She  had  de- 
cided to  take  both  of  her  new  dresses ;  she  was 
glad  she  had  something  decent  to  wear  for  din- 
ner ;  of  course,  there'd  be  a  lot  of  other  people 
there. 

Dorothea,   on   the   contrary,  felt   unable   to 


196 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


display  any  enthusiasm  over  the  visit ;  her  only 
reason  for  consenting  to  make  it  was  a  desire  to 
gratify  her  mother.  She  did  not  like  the  pros- 
pect of  passing  four  consecutive  days  with  Mrs. 
Follett  Ladd.  For,  of  course,  as  Lady  Downes 
had  said,  Mrs.  Ladd  would  be  at  Broadoaks  at 
the  same  time.  To  make  sure  of  this  unpleasant 
probability,  she  said : 

"  Is  Mrs.  Ladd  going  with  us  ?  " 

"  Is  she  going  with  us  ?  Do  you  suppose  I'd 
go  down  there  unless  she  was  there  ?  It  would 
be  very  funny  if  Lady  Downes " 

"  And  Mr.  Ladd  too  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,  but  I 
suppose  so."  A  moment  later  Mrs.  Wayne 
added :  "  Mrs.  Ladd  said  that  Mr.  Boyd  had 
been  asked." 

Two  sharp  eyes  were  upon  her,  but  Doro- 
thea did  not  flinch.  She  was  vexed,  neverthe- 
less, and  she  wondered  vaguely  if  she  could  not 
escape  making  the  visit,  if  she  couldn't  con- 
struct a  pretext  for  staying  in  London  and  let- 
ting her  mother  go  without  her  ;  but  her  moth- 
er, she  was  sure,  would  suspect  that  she  wanted 
to  stay  behind  to  see  Aleck  French  again.  She 
felt  as  if  she  were  caught  in  a  net,  and  instead 
of  struggling  in  the  meshes,  she  resigned  herself 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  197 

to  the  situation.  She  would  try  to  make  the 
best  of  the  visit ;  it  would  at  least  be  amusing 
and  she  would  enjoy  Lady  Downes.  Of  Sir 
Hubert  she  tried  not  to  think  much  ;  but  she 
could  not  help  reflecting  on  Harrington  Boyd's 
cynical  observation  of  Mrs.  Ladd's  machina- 
tions. Her  mother  seemed  to  divine  her 
thoughts,  for  she  blurted  out : 

"  Mrs.  Ladd  was  very  much  annoyed  when 
Lady  Downes  told  her  Mr.  Boyd  was  going  to 
be  there." 

"  She  used  to  be  a  friend  of  Mr.  Boyd's." 

"  Well,  she  isn't  any  more.  She  says  he 
hasn't  any  heart." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Dorothea  laughed. 

"  I  don't  see  what  there  is  funny  about  that," 
said  her  mother. 

"  It's  funny  that  Mrs.  Ladd  has  only  just 
found  it  out,  that's  all — after  knowing  him  for 
years." 

"  She  says  she's  disappointed  in  him." 

As  Dorothea  made  no  comment,  Mrs.  Wayne 
went  on  : 

"  I  don't  like  him  at  all.  I  think  he's  the 
most  affected  man  I've  ever  known." 

"  You  used  to  like  him  well  enough  in 
Hull." 


198 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


"  So  did  you,  for  that  matter.  I  should 
think  from  the  way  you — 

"  I  like  him  just  as  well  now,"  Dorothea  re- 
plied quickly,  to  head  her  mother  off. 

"  When  I  compare  him  with  a  man  like  Sir 
Hubert  Downes !  "  Mrs.  Wayne  exclaimed. 
"  He  is  a  man  !  " 

Dorothea  had  taken  her  workbasket  from 
the  mantel  and  placed  it  on  the  table.  She 
stood  over  it,  so  absorbed  in  trying  to  thread  a 
needle  in  the  dim  light  that  she  did  not  reply. 
Mrs.  Wayne  waited  nervously  till  the  thread 
had  passed  through  the  needle's  eye  and  had 
been  caught  on  the  other  side. 

"  Lady  Downes  told  me  that  Sir  Hubert  was 
very  much  interested  in  you." 

Dorothea  sat  by  the  table,  and,  after  turning 
a  kid  glove  inside  out,  began  deftly  to  sew  the 
end  of  one  of  the  fingers. 

"  I'm  sure  that's  very  kind  of  him." 

"  I  told  her  what  you  said  about  him." 

Dorothea  looked  up  quickly. 

"What  did  I  say?" 

"  You  said  you  thought  he  was  very  fine- 
looking  and  interesting." 

"  I  don't  think  I  said  that,  mother.  You 
made  a  mistake." 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  Well,  you  said  something  like  it,  anyway," 
the  widow  replied  irritably. 

Mrs.  Wayne  wanted  to  say  a  great  many 
more  things,  but  after  looking  intently  at  her 
daughter,  whose  head  was  bent  over  the  glove, 
she  didn't  dare.  She  was  satisfied,  however, 
that  Dorothea  had  caught  the  significance  of 
her  remarks,  and,  in  spite  of  the  consciousness 
that  she  had  been  balked  again,  she  felt  an 
admiration  for  the  girl's  reserve.  Dorothea, 
she  said  to  herself,  was  growing  more  and  more 
like  her  father.  She  wondered  if  duchesses 
wore  coronets.  Sir  Hubert  was  only  a  baronet, 
but  she  supposed  there  must  be  some  system 
of  promotion  in  the  British  aristocracy.  Lady 
Bloomsbury,  however,  was  a  countess,  and  at 
the  dinner  given  by  the  Downes  she  had  worn 
no  jewelry  whatever  ;  but  that  might  have  been 
due  to  her  eccentricity,  to  what  Mrs.  Ladd 
called  her  "silly  affectation  of  democracy." 

"  It's  the  same  spirit  that  made  Marie  Antoi- 
nette masquerade  as  a  shepherdess,"  the  social 
leader  had  remarked,  and  Mrs.  Wayne  had  be- 
come convinced  of  the  folly  of  the  principle 
that  all  people  were  equal.  The  Downes  were 
sufficient  proof  that  blood  would  tell ;  Mrs. 
Wayne  ignored  the  fact  that  blood  betrayed  a 


200  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

great  many  hideous  secrets;  she  preferred  to 
consider  the  matter  only  in  its  social  application. 
She  felt  sure  that  either  in  her  own  ancestry  or 
in  her  husband's  there  had  been  a  dash  of  noble 
blood,  which  had  found  expression  in  Doro- 
thea's majesty.  If  all  went  well,  her  daughter 
would  simply  come  into  her  inheritance. 

Mrs.  Wayne's  happiness  would  have  been 
complete  if  she  could  have  threshed  out  her 
ambitions  and  her  hopes  with  the  Misses  Mar- 
bury  ;  but  their  limitations,  she  feared  on  con- 
sideration, were  such  that  they  could  be  of  no 
help  in  a  critical  situation  like  this  ;  they  would 
simply  rush  into  wild  theories  and  fluttering 
suggestions  of  no  practical  value ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  they  would  be  able  to  appreciate  the 
cloud  thrown  on  the  prospect  by  Aleck  French. 

At  the  thought  of  Aleck  French  Mrs. 
Wayne's  spirits  drooped ;  but  they  revived 
again  when  she  remembered  that  Dorothea  was 
to  go  to  the  Tower  that  afternoon  with  Sir 
Hubert  Downes. 

The  next  few  days  were  spent  by  Mrs. 
Wayne  in  feverish  agitation ;  Dorothea  had 
never  known  her  to  be  so  active,  and  she  was 
prepared  at  any  moment  to  see  her  collapse. 
Dorothea's  own  preparations  were  few  ;  she  had 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  2QI 

decided  to  take  with  her  three  frocks  to  wear 
by  day,  and  two  dinner  dresses.  Her  mother 
would  have  been  pleased  if  she  had  carried  her 
whole  wardrobe,  but  she  was  firm  in  her  refusal 
to  do  this. 

"  We  shall  be  there  only  four  days,  and  it 
would  be  foolish  to  go  with  a  lot  of  trunks^as 
if  we  intended  to  stay  a  month;"  she  said. 

"  But  they  may  want  us  to  stay  longer,"  her 
mother  insisted. 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  quite  enough  of  it," 
Dorothea  replied,  to  her  mother's  secret  solici- 
tude, for  Mrs.  Wayne  thought  she  saw  in  the 
remark  a  threat. 

"  I  hope  you'll  at  least  make  an  effort  to  be 
civil  to  these  people,"  she  cried,  when  she  had 
weighed  the  speech. 

"  I'll  behave  as  well  as  I  know  how,"  Doro- 
thea laughed. 

At  Mrs.  Ladd's  suggestion  Mrs.  Wayne  had 
planned  to  take  an  afternoon  train  for  Penley ; 
they  would  arrive  at  half  past  four  and  the 
Downes'  carriage  would  meet  them. 

At  Paddington  Station  they  met  Lady 
Bloomsbury,  who,  attired  in  one  of  her  wonder- 
ful red  gowns,  seemed  almost  to  glow  in  the 
gloom  of  the  day. 


202  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you,"  said  the  count- 
ess, walking  up  to  them.  "  Lady  Downes  wrote 
me  you  were  going  down  on  this  train.  Have 
you  bought  your  tickets  yet  ?  Let  us  go  in  the 
same  carriage." 

"  I'll  get  the  tickets,  mother,"  said  Dorothea. 
"  You  stay  with  Lady  Bloomsbury." 

"  But  mind  you  don't  get  first-class  tickets. 
You  Americans  are  so  extravagant !  I  always 
go  second." 

Dorothea  presently  returned,  tickets  in  hand. 
They  found  an  empty  second-class  compart- 
ment, and  took  possession  of  it. 

"  I  do  hope  no  one  will  come  in,"  said  the 
countess,  depositing  herself  in  a  corner.  "  One 
of  these  windows  we'll  put  down"  she  went  on, 
seizing  the  window  strap,  "  and  I'll  take  charge 
of  the  other.  There  are  about  ten  tunnels  be- 
tween here  and  Penley  and  you  have  to  keep 
pulling  the  window  up  and  down.  One  minute 
you're  choking  and  the  next  minute  you're 
gasping." 

When  the  train  had  started  Lady  Blooms- 
bury  proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  the  life 
at  Broadoaks. 

"Lady  Downes  is  an  ideal  hostess,"  she  said. 
"  She  has  the  great  art  of  letting  her  guests 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  203 

alone.  It's  always  a  satisfaction  to  me  when 
I'm  there  to  feel  that  I'm  not  obliged  to  smile 
at  breakfast.  Lady  Downes  has  breakfast  sent 
up  to  the  rooms,  after  the  Continental  fashion, 
you  know,  only  she  gives  you  more  to  eat  than 
they  do  on  the  Continent.  It's  ghastly  to  have 
to  be  amiable  in  the  morning,  isn't  it?  I  always 
feel  as  cross  as  two  sticks.  It's  bad  enough  for 
us  to  endure  one  another  when  we  feel  wide- 
awake and  alive.  I'm  really  never  awake  till 
twelve.  It's  a  fresh  shock  to  me  when  I  open 
my  eyes  in  the  morning  and  find  myself  con- 
fronted with  life  again." 

Lady  Bloomsbury  was  on  the  watch  for  a 
tunnel,  and  as  the  train  shot  into  one  she  pulled 
up  the  window  with  a  quick  movement  of  the 
strap.  Then,  for  a  few  moments,  they  all  sat 
back  in  their  seats,  the  lights  in  the  compart- 
ment giving  the  darkness  a  sickly  pallor.  When 
the  train  shot  into  daylight  again  the  window 
fell  with  a  bang. 

"  But  you  wouldn't  want  to  go  to  bed  some 
night  and  never  wake  again,  Lady  Blooms- 
bury  ?  "  Mrs.  Wayne  cried,  taking  up  the  thread 
of  talk. 

"  If  I  answered  you  literally,  I  should  say 
yes.  I  can't  think  of  anything  more  delightful 


204  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

than  eternal  sleep.  But,  you  see,  there's  always 
the  horrid  possibility  of  waking  in  something 
a  great  deal  worse  than  the  '  garish  day,' "  she 
laughed. 

Mrs.  Wayne  looked  mystified  ;  she  did  not 
understand  this  kind  of  talk.  Dorothea  saw  at 
once  that  Lady  Bloomsbury  was  not  above  talk- 
ing for  effect ;  indeed,  her  speeches  during  the 
rest  of  the  journey  confirmed  the  impression  ;  she 
seemed  quite  unlike  the  straightforward,  matter- 
of-fact  woman  who  had  offered  her  so  much 
gratuitous  advice  at  Lady  Downes'  reception  a 
few  days  before.  She  kept  pulling  the  window 
up  and  down  and  was  silent  only  as  the  train 
passed  through  the  tunnels.  When  Penley  was 
reached  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  do  dislike  railway  journeys  so !  "  she  said. 
"  And  there's  good  Sir  Hubert  waiting  for  us," 
she  added,  leaning  out  of  the  window. 

Sir  Hubert  was  standing  on  the  platform  of 
the  station,  eagerly  scanning  the  first-class  car- 
riages. Dorothea  saw  his  face  light  up  suddenly 
as  he  hurried  forward  to  greet  some  one  whom 
she  could  not  see.  When  she  left  the  carriage 
she  recognised  the  well-groomed  figure  of  Har- 
rington Boyd. 

"  I  looked  for  you,  but  I  couldn't  find  you  at 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  205 

first,"  said  Sir  Hubert,  as  he  turned  with  a  smile 
to  Lady  Bloomsbury  and  Dorothea. 

"  Haven't  you  known  me  long  enough  to 
know  that  I  never  go  first-class  ? "  cried  the 
countess. 

"Lady  Bloomsbury  is  so  fond  of  the  middle 
classes,"  Boyd  remarked,  as  he  shook  hands 
with  Dorothea. 

"  That's  why  she  came  with  us,"  Dorothea 
explained  amiably,  to  the  horror  of  her 
mother. 

For  an  instant  Boyd  looked  confused  ;  then 
he  added  rather  lamely  :  "  I  shall  always  travel 
second-class  in  future,  Miss  Wayne.  You've 
conferred  distinction  on  it." 

Two  burly  countrymen  were  attending  to 
the  traps,  and  Sir  Hubert  led  the  ladies  to  the 
carriages  that  stood  at.  the  other  side  of  the  sta- 
tion. Harrington  Boyd  turned  to  give  directions 
about  his  own  luggage,  and  a  moment  later 
joined  the  group. 

"  This  carriage  will  hold  three  people  very 
comfortably,"  Sir  Hubert  was  saying,  "and  the 
other  I'll  drive  myself  and  take  some  one  with 
me.  How  shall  we  arrange  it?  " 

"  Let  me  arrange  it,"  Lady  Bloomsbury  in- 
terposed. "  Mrs.  Wayne  and  Mr.  Boyd  and  I 
14 


2o6  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

will  go  in  this  one,  and  you  take  Miss  Wayne  in 
the  other." 

Every  one  seemed  pleased  with  this  plan  save 
Harrington  Boyd,  who  said  nothing  and  looked 
disgruntled.  Sir  Hubert  helped  Dorothea  on 
the  seat  in  the  little  yellow  cart  and  sprang 
after  her. 

"  We'll  get  there  a  little  while  before  they 
do,"  he  said,  starting  the  horse  and  turning  to 
the  ladies  who  were  still  trying  to  adjust  them- 
selves comfortably  in  the  other  vehicle. 

The  cart  tipped  spasmodically  and  Dorothea 
was  obliged  to  cling  to  it  in  order  to  keep  her 
balance.  For  a  few  moments  Sir  Hubert  looked 
straight  ahead  without  speaking.  The  horse,  of 
a  deep  chestnut,  with  great  haunches,  seemed  to 
be  full  of  spirit.  Dorothea  could  feel  her  hair 
flying  over  her  forehead  and  her  cheeks  flam- 
ing ;  the  green  fields  flashed  on  either  side,  the 
grass  sparkling  in  the  sunshine  that  had  just 
broken  through  the  clouds  after  a  light  rain. 
On  the  horizon  hung  a  purple  haze,  making  just 
the  atmosphere  that  Dorothea  had  noticed  in 
one  of  the  pictures  at  the  National  Gallery. 
Here  and  there  they  passed  low  red-brick  houses 
with  vines  running  over  their  fronts  and  over 
the  brick  walls  that  divided  one  from  another. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  2O/ 

"  It's  going  to  be  pleasant,  I  think,"  said  Sir 
Hubert,  when  the  horse  had  quieted  to  a  regular 
trot.  "  We  had  a  little  shower  an  hour  ago.  I 
wonder  if  it  rained  on  your  way  down.  Some- 
times it  doesn't  rain  in  the  city  when  it  is  raining 
here.  We  get  a  good  many  showers.  That's 
why  the  country  is  so  fertile."  A  moment  later, 
"  It's  a  beastly  place — London,"  Sir  Hubert 
went  on.  "  I  don't  understand  why  visitors  like 
it  so  much." 

"  But  they  are  apt  to  see  it  at  the  best  sea- 
son, aren't  they  ?  " 

"Yes.  Perhaps  that  accounts  for  it;  but  I 
know  some  Americans  that  live  in  London  all 
the  year  round  ;  they  like  it  better  than  Paris. 
Many  people  do,  for  that  matter — even  artists. 
You'd  expect  artists  to  dislike  it." 

"  I  thought  that  most  of  them  preferred 
Paris." 

"They  prefer  it  during  their  student  days, 
but  many  of  them  drift  over  here  afterward." 

They  had  passed  the  little  brick  houses  and 
come  into  a  wide  stretch  of  unbroken  country ; 
in  the  distance  Dorothea  could  see  between  the 
trees  the  tall  spires  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  great 
castle.  She  pointed  to  them  and  asked  what 
they  were. 


208  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  That's  our  place,"  Sir  Hubert  replied. 
"  We  go  in  a  roundabout  way  to  get  to  it. 
From  here  it's  only  three  miles  off  in  a  straight 
line,  but  by  the  road  it's  nearly  five." 

They  presently  turned  into  a  road  that  led 
through  a  forest,  under  interlacing  trees,  with 
branches  so  thick  that  the  sunlight  could  not 
penetrate  them.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the 
odour  of  plants  and  wild  flowers,  and  musical 
with  the  twittering  of  birds  and  the  chirping  of 
insects ;  the  trees  exhaled  a  delicious  fragrance. 

For  the  time  Dorothea  gave  herself  up  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  country.  She  wished  that 
she  and  her  mother  could  find  a  place  like  this, 
where  they  might  pass  the  rest  of  the  summer  ; 
her  mother  would  surely  thrive  in  this  air,  and 
she  would  herself  find  pleasure  and  profit  in 
sketching  the  scenery.  It  did  not  occur  to  her 
that  the  solitude  of  such  a  place  would  depress 
her  mother  to  such  an  extent  as  to  destroy  what- 
ever physical  benefit  she  might  have  from  it; 
Mrs.  Wayne's  restless  energy  since  her  arrival  in 
England  seemed  to  indicate  that  excitement  was 
the  best  of  tonics  for  her. 

For  three  miles  the  cart  passed  under  the  in- 
terlacing branches  and  Dorothea  noted  several 
bits  of  scenery  that  would  have  made  good 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  2OQ 

studies.  She  thought  with  regret  of  the  month 
she  had  spent  in  the  city ;  all  those  precious 
weeks  might  have  been  spent  in  some  such 
place  as  this ;  if  she  had  her  way  she  would  live 
in  the  country  all  the  year  round  ;  she  was  not 
surprised  that  so  many  English  people  disliked 
the  city,  as  Sir  Hubert  did.  What  a  delightful 
life  he  must  lead  here  !  She  could  not  help 
comparing  it  with  the  lives  of  most  of  the  men 
she  knew,  spent  in  a  ceaseless  effort  to  make 
money,  or  in  a  ceaseless  effort  to  add  to  what 
they  had  already  made.  Sir  Hubert,  as  he  sat 
beside  her,  was  the  embodiment  of  healthful- 
ness  and  content  and  repose.  Though  they 
had  ridden  for  more  than  a  mile  without  speak- 
ing he  seemed  not  in  the  least  embarrassed. 

When  they  came  into  the  open  again  the 
sun  was  shining.  For  two  miles  they  drove 
along  the  deserted  road.  Then,  in  the  dis- 
tance, beside  a  smalt  white  cottage,  Dorothea 
saw  a  wide  gate  stretching  across  the  road. 
As  they  approached  it,  an  old  woman  in  a 
white  muslin  cap  came  out  and  opened  the  gate. 
She  smiled  and  bowed  when  they  entered  the 
park ;  then  closing  the  gate,  she  turned  and 
watched  them  for  a  moment  with  the  smile 
still  on  her  face. 


2io  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

The  road  was  smooth  and  hard,  and  wound 
in  curves  over  the  hill,  leading  to  the  house. 

"  I  should  like  to  take  you  over  the  place  a 
bit,"  said  Sir  Hubert.  "  We  shall  have  plenty 
of  time  before  the  others  get  here." 

They  turned  into  a  road  that  ran  along  the 
side  of  the  hill  and  led  to  an  artificial  lake, 
where  three  small  boats  lay  at  a  miniature 
wharf.  Beside  it  stood  a  white  summer  house, 
more  than  twice  as  large  as  the  lodge  they  had 
just  passed. 

"  This  is  where  I  try  my  hand  at  painting 
now  and  then,"  Sir  Hubert  explained.  "  I've 
set  up  a  kind  of  studio  there." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  some  time,"  said 
Dorothea.  "  You  know,  you  promised  once  to 
show  me  your  work." 

"  Did  I  ?  "  he  laughed.  "  I'm  afraid  it  isn't 
worth  showing.  But,  of  course,  you'll  see  the 
studio.  There's  a  special  room  that  my  mother 
and  I  have  set  apart  for  you.  We  thought 
you  might  like  to  do  some  work  while  you 
were  here." 

They  drove  on  to  a  small  stone  structure 
a  half-mile  away.  The  rough  stone  had  been 
blackened  by  centuries  of  damp,  and  with  its 
ivy,  which  more  than  half  covered  the  walls,  it 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


211 


seemed  to  Dorothea  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
specimens  of  Romanesque  she  had  ever  seen. 
Sir  Hubert  seemed  pleased  with  her  delight 
over  it. 

"Yes,  they  seldom  build  anything  just  like 
that  now,"  he  said.  "  We're  very  proud  of  it. 
To-morrow  I'll  take  you  inside.  I  had  the 
doors  opened  to-day  to  air  the  place.  We 
don't  use  the  church  now.  We  haven't  had 
a  curate  since  five  years  before  my  father 
died.  My  father  had  a  quarrel  with  him,  and 
while  he  stayed  he'd  never  go  into  the  place, 
and  he  wouldn't  allow  the  servants  to  go 
either.  So  the  poor  devil  used  to  preach 
every  Sunday  to  three  or  four  of  the  old 
women  from  the  village.  He  stayed  on  for 
three  years  to  get  the  salary  ;  he  knew  father 
wouldn't  send  him  away.  Then  he  got  another 
living  and  went  off.  By  that  time  we'd  grown 
used  to  staying  away  on  Sundays,  and  we  never 
took  any  one  in  his  place.  Besides,"  he  added, 
with  a  smile,  "  we  can't  afford  to  keep  a  curate 
of  our  own.  When  we  want  to  go  to  church 
we  drive  down  to  Penley." 

Sir  Hubert  turned  the  horse's  head  to  the 
right,  and  drove  past  the  summer  house  again 
and  then  up  the  hill.  "  This  road  leads  to  the 


212  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

house.  Our  stables  are  over  there,"  he  said, 
pointing  with  his  whip  toward  the  left.  "  You 
can  just  catch  a  glimpse  of  them  through  the 
trees.  To-morrow,  if  it's  fine,  I  should  like  to 
show  you  our  horses.  We  have  a  few  good 
ones  left ;  we  used  to  have  the  stables  full,  but 
that  was  before  we  began  to  economize." 

Before  the  top  of  the  hill  was  reached, 
Dorothea  could  see  the  tall  spires  of  Broad- 
oaks.  Then  the  whole  castle  stood  out  sud- 
denly before  her.  On  first  view  it  seemed  very 
impressive  and  beautiful,  though  afterward  she 
noticed  in  it  what  seemed  to  her  serious  faults 
of  architecture.  Long  and  narrow,  with  a  be- 
wildering number  of  turrets  and  towers,  it  was 
apparently  of  stone,  and  was  half  covered  with 
ivy,  some  of  which  ran  to  the  very  top  of  the 
turrets. 

"  It  doesn't  look  very  old,"  said  Sir  Hubert, 
as  they  drove  through  the  enormous  iron  gate- 
way that  led  to  the  house,  "  though  it  was  built 
in  the  tenth  century.  Before  my  grandfather 
tampered  with  it  it  must  have  been  rather  fine. 
He  thought  it  wasn't  pretty  enough ;  so  he 
plastered  the  brick  over  and  added  all  these 
silly  little  ornaments  that  spoil  the  effect.  He's 
the  one  that  laid  out  our  garden.  You  can  just 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  213 

see  it  from  here.  All  those  fountains  and  stat- 
ues he  set  up,  and  he  planned  the  walks  and  the 
shrubbery,  too.  He  wanted  to  make  a  miniature 
Versailles  out  of  it,"  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"  and  we're  paying  the  cost  of  his  improvements 
now." 


XV. 

SIR  HUBERT  climbed  down  from  his  seat  to 
open  the  heavy  iron  gates  leading-  to  the  house. 
As  he  mounted  again  and  took  the  reins  from 
Dorothea's  hands,  he  said  with  a  smile : 

"  In  our  palmy  days  we  used  to  have  serv- 
ants do  these  things  for  us.  But  now  we  do 
them  ourselves." 

His  mother  was  standing  in  the  doorway, 
waving  her  hand  in  welcome  ;  the  figure  in  out- 
line behind  her  Dorothea  recognised  as  Mrs. 
Follett  Ladd. 

"  Where  are  the  others?"  cried  Mrs.  Ladd, 
as  Sir  Hubert  helped  her  down  from  the  cart. 

When  Dorothea  explained  that  they  were 
coming  and  had  received  greetings,  Lady 
Downes  led  her  through  the  dark  hall  and  up 
the  wide  oak  staircase. 

"  I've  decided  to  put  you  on  the  second 
floor,  so  that  your  mother  shall  have  only  one 
flight  to  climb,"  she  said.  "  Dp  you  like  the 

214 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  215 

sun  in  the  morning  ?  I  hope  so.  I  always  do  ; 
1  like  to  begin  the  day  cheerfully." 

Lady  Downes  threw  open  one  of  the  doors 
in  the  long  hall,  the  sides  of  which  were  deco- 
rated with  old  prints,  and  they  entered  a  small 
square  room  furnished  in  red  and  gold.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  a  thick,  dull-red  paper 
that  looked  like  cloth  ;  a  canopy  of  red  satin, 
embroidered  with  gold,  hung  over  the  large 
oak  bed.  As  she  looked  around,  Dorothea  gave 
a  little  cry  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  how  lovely  !  " 

"Do  you  really  like  it?"  asked  Lady 
Downes,  with  a  smile.  "  We  don't  often  use 
this  room  ;  it  seems  almost  too  fine,  too  preten- 
tious for  everyday  use.  It's  quite  the  grandest 
room  in  the  house.  There's  a  tradition  that  it 
was  furnished  to  receive  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  she 
was  travelling  through  England  and  Sir  Geof- 
frey Downes — you'll  see  his  picture  in  the  din- 
ing room — invited  her  to  pass  a  night  here. 
That  crown  on  the  canopy  was  made  for  her." 

Dorothea  came  very  near  smiling  at  the 
thought  of  her  mother  occupying  the  bed 
where  Queen  Elizabeth  had  slept.  What  his- 
toric possibilities  were  in  that !  It  would  thrill 
the  Misses  Marbury  when  they  heard  of  it,  and 


2l6  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

would  furnish  material  for  conversation  for  the 
rest  of  her  mother's  life. 

Lady  Downes  turned  to  the  door  that  led 
into  another  room  and  opened  it. 

"  This  is  a  very  small  place  to  put  you  into," 
she  said,  "  but  I  thought  you'd  want  to  be  near 
your  mother." 

The  room  was  little  more  than  half  the  size 
of  the  other,  but  it  looked  attractive.  It  was 
furnished  very  simply,  in  blue  ;  on  the  walls 
were  a  few  prints  like  those  in  the  hall,  and  a 
copy  of  Guido  Reni's  Beatrice  Cenci.  It 
was  really  nothing  more  than  a  dressing  room, 
but  Dorothea  expressed  her  satisfaction  with  it. 

When  Lady  Downes  had  left  her  Dorothea 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  Below 
stretched  a  wide  greensward  marked  with  the 
white  lines  of  a  tennis  court.  At  some  distance 
away  the  trees  were  swaying  on  the  slope  of 
the  hill  and  above  them  rose  a  circle  of  smoke. 
Not  a  house  could  be  seen,  and  Dorothea  had 
a  sudden  sense  of  loneliness. 

She  realized  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
been  in  England  how  far  away  from  home  she 
was,  and  she  longed  for  familiar  scenes  and 
familiar  faces.  She  had  never  been  fond  of 
Oswego,  but  now,  in  her  mind,  it  assumed  rare 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


217 


attractions.  She  thought  of  the  street  where 
she  lived,  of  the  crooked  trees  that  shaded  the 
house  in  summer.  Then  she  thought  of  the 
years  she  had  wanted  to  come  to  Europe,  of 
the  visit  to  England  she  had  planned  to  take 
with  her  father.  If  he  had  lived  that  visit  would 
have  been  so  different  from  the  one  she  was 
now  making.  She  wondered  why  nearly  every- 
thing in  England  was  disappointing  her.  Then 
she  recalled  her  determination  in  London  to 
make  the  most  of  her  opportunities,  to  enjoy 
herself  as  well  as  she  could.  During  her  stay 
at  Broadoaks,  she  resolved  to  keep  to  that ;  she 
would  steal  away  in  the  morning,  and  make 
some  sketches  ;  the  rest  of  the  day  she  would 
play,  as  well  as  she  could,  the  part  her  mother 
had  forced  upon  her. 

A  few  minutes  later  Mrs.  Wayne  came  pant- 
ing into  the  next  room,  and  Dorothea  went  in 
to  meet  her.  As  soon  as  the  servant  had  de- 
posited her  traps  on  the  floor  and  she  was  alone 
with  her  daughter  Mrs.  Wayne  looked  around. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  this  be- 
fore ?  Isn't  it  magnificent  ? "  she  said,  in  an 
awe-stricken  voice. 

Dorothea  repeated  what  Lady  Downes  had 
told  her  about  the  apartment,  and  the  widow 


2i8  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

was  awed  into  momentary  silence.  She  won- 
dered what  Annetta  Griffin  would  think  of 
this  ;  she  must  write  her  all  about  it.  She  had 
a  fantastic  thought  that  it  was  not  herself  but 
her  daughter  who  ought  to  occupy  the  sumptu- 
ous apartment  and  sleep  in  the  royal  bed ; 
nevertheless  she  quickly  decided  to  occupy 
that  herself ;  even  to  her  sense  of  fitness  she 
could  not  make  so  great  a  personal  sacrifice. 
The  room  surpassed  her  splendid  conceptions 
of  baronial  grandeur ;  it  atoned  for  the  ab- 
sence of  the  crimson  carpet  on  the  staircase  ;  in 
spite  of  the  agitation  of  her  entrance,  she  had 
noticed  that  the  halls  and  the  stairs  were  of 
polished  hard  wood. 

Lady  Downes  had  urged.  Mrs.  Wayne  to 
rest  from  the  fatigue  of  her  journey  before 
dinner,  and  she  sent  up  some  tea  and  toast. 
But  Mrs.  Wayne  was  too  nervous  to  rest ;  she 
occupied  herself  in  unpacking  her  wardrobe 
and  hanging  her  new  dresses  so  that  they 
should  not  be  crushed.  Dorothea  would  have 
liked  to  go  out  and  walk  about  the  place  ;  she 
was  afraid,  however,  that  Lady  Downes  or  Sir 
Hubert  would  see  her  and  feel  obliged  to  en- 
tertain her.  She  disliked  being  "  entertained." 
For  this  reason  visiting  had  always  been  dis- 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


219 


agreeable  to  her,  except  at  a  few  places  where 
she  was  allowed  to  do  as  she  pleased.  When  it 
was  time  for  dinner  Mrs.  Wayne  was  pale  with 
excitement,  and  so  nervous  that  she  had  to 
cling  to  her  daughter's  arm  for  support.  Mrs. 
Ladd,  who  brought  up  behind  her,  gave  her 
courage,  however,  so  that  when  they  entered 
the  long  drawing  room,  she  felt  able  to  play 
her  part.  A  glance  at  Dorothea,  moreover, 
lent  her  additional  support ;  in  her  dinner 
dress  of  white  corded  silk,  Dorothea  had  never 
looked  finer,  and  her  repose,  the  widow  said 
to  herself,  had  never  been  more  regal.  It  was 
more  than  maternal  solicitude  that  kept  Mrs. 
Wayne's  eyes  fixed  upon  her.  Her  imagina- 
tion was  inspired,  intoxicated.  If  Annetta 
Griffin  could  only  see  her  child  at  that  mo- 
ment !  Mrs.  Wayne's  sharp  eyes  saw  also  that 
Sir  Hubert  and  Harrington  Boyd  were  im- 
pressed by  the  vision.  How  strange  that  these 
two  men  should  be  admiring  her  daughter  at 
the  same  moment,  in  the  same  place  !  For  the 
moment  her  heart  fairly  warmed  toward  Har- 
rington Boyd.  She  felt  sure  that  Dorothea 
cared  nothing  for  him,  and  this  saved  her  from 
fearing  him  ;  besides,  his  interest  in  her  daugh- 
ter might  prove  of  service  during  the  next  few 


220  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

days.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  not  read  romances  all 
her  life  for  nothing. 

The  dining  room  was  hung  with  family  por- 
traits and  with  battle  flags  and  trophies.  Sir 
Hubert  sat  beside  Dorothea  and  told  her  stories 
of  various  members  of  his  family  that  the  por- 
traits represented  and  the  history  of  the  most 
interesting  of  the  trophies.  The  men  had  nearly 
all  been  fighters ;  he  and  his  father  were  almost 
the  only  peaceful  ones.  Most  of  his  anecdotes 
were  related  humorously,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of 
seeming  to  boast.  As  Dorothea  listened  to  him 
her  eyes  wandered  over  the  great  room,  over 
the  heavy  carvings  on  the  walls,  over  the  bal- 
cony that  looked  down  on  the  scene,  through 
the  windows  that  let  in  the  red  rays  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  gave  her  a  view  of  the  smooth 
green  lawn  and  the  waving  trees  beyond. 

This  was  what  English  country  life  really 
meant,  she  said  to  herself.  How  beautiful  it 
was  !  It  surpassed  all  the  descriptions  that  she 
had  ever  read  of  it.  She  did  not  wish  to  speak ; 
she  was  content  to  sit  still,  enjoying  her  impres- 
sions and  listening  to  Sir  Hubert's  pleasant  Eng- 
lish voice.  Most  of  the  conversation  was  sus- 
tained by  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd  and  Lady  Blooms- 
bury  ;  they  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  trying  to  out- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  221 

do  each  other;  that  is,  during  the  first  of  the 
meal,  for  after  a  time  Lady  Bloomsbury  gave 
up  the  contest,  and  went  on  talking  inaudibly  to 
Harrington  Boyd.  Presently  Mrs.  Ladd  ap- 
peared to  realize  that  her  exuberance  was  out 
of  harmony  with  the  tranquillity  of  the  hour, 
and  the  dinner  came  to  a  close  in  a  low  hum  of 
voices  that  hardly  broke  the  silence.  The  serv- 
ants noiselessly  brought  in  the  candles,  and  the 
guests  lingered  for  a  few  moments  in  the  dim 
light.  Coffee  was  served  on  the  lawn ;  as  the 
darkness  deepened  and  the  moon  rose,  they 
strolled  away,  Dorothea  with  Sir  Hubert,  Lady 
Bloomsbury  with  Harrington  Boyd,  and  the 
other  ladies  together,  with  Follett  Ladd  beside 
them,  smoking  his  cigar. 

When  Dorothea  returned  that  night  to 
Queen  Elizabeth's  bedchamber  she  felt  as  if  she 
had  passed  an  almost  perfect  evening ;  she  had 
allowed  herself  to  forget  her  cares  and  to  enjoy 
the  charm  of  the  place  and  the  time.  Her 
mother,  however,  expressed  disappointment 
that  Lady  Downes'  other  guests  consisted  of 
the  Ladds  and  Lady  Bloomsbury  and  Harring- 
ton Boyd  only.  She  had  hoped  to  make  fresh 
connections,  to  establish  more  intricate  relations 
with  the  British  aristocracy. 
15 


222  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

After  the  first  day  at  Broadoaks  Dorothea 
found  that  she  could  do  as  she  pleased  there. 
Her  mother  devoted  herself  to  Mrs.  Ladd,  and 
Mrs.  Ladd's  husband  was  rarely  seen  about  the 
place  except  at  luncheon  and  dinner  and  during 
the  evening ;  at  these  times  he  had  very  little  to 
say.  He  seemed  to  exist  chiefly  for  the  purpose 
of  smoking  cigars ;  save  at  table,  he  was  rarely 
seen  without  a  big  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

At  Broadoaks  Mrs.  Wayne  fell  at  once  into 
luxurious  habits ;  she  took  breakfast  in  bed  at 
half  past  eight,  then  slept  again  till  eleven.  Her 
afternoons  were  devoted  to  communion  with 
Lady  Downes  and  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd.  Indeed, 
from  luncheon  till  bedtime  one  of  these  ladies 
was  rarely  seen  unaccompanied  by  the  other 
two.  Whenever  Dorothea  caught  a  glimpse  of 
them  crossing  the  lawn  or  taking  tea  on  the 
veranda  of  the  summerhouse,  where  she  joined 
them  at  four  o'clock,  they  were  indulging  in  the 
passionate  conversation  of  people  who  meet  at  a 
railway  station  after  years  of  separation  and 
before  the  train  arrives  that  is  to  tear  them 
apart  endeavour  to  talk  out  their  confidences. 
She  marvelled  at  the  inexhaustible  fertility  of 
their  topics.  At  night,  while  preparing  for  bed, 
bits  from  these  conferences  used  to  be  flung  to 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  223 

her  from  the  adjoining-  room ;  occasionally,  her 
mother  would  desert  Queen  Elizabeth's  cham- 
ber to  give  a  dramatic  repetition  of  some  par- 
ticularly vital  passage.  Mrs.  Wayne  was  rapidly 
becoming"  an  authority  on  the  scandals  of  the 
British  aristocracy ;  Dorothea  was  at  first  sur- 
prised that  Lady  Downes  should  care  to  spend 
her  time  in  retailing  gossip,  but  she  soon  discov- 
ered that  most  of  this  came  from  Mrs.  Ladd, 
who  knew  far  more  than  her  hostess  about 
Burke's  Peerage.  Dorothea  would  have  been 
bored  by  these  tales  if  she  hadn't  observed  that 
her  mother  fairly  bloomed  under  them  ;  never 
since  her  husband's  death  had  the  widow  seemed 
so  strong  and  happy  ;  at  dinner  her  complexion 
used  to  soften  and  reveal  suggestions  of  au- 
tumnal beauty. 

Dorothea  was  herself  happier  than  she  had 
been  since  reaching  England ;  her  enjoyment 
may  have  been  the  greater  because  she  had  not 
expected  to  enjoy  the  visit  at  Broadoaks.  Her 
mother  had  ceased  to  criticise  her ;  indeed,  she 
was  given  so  much  independence  that  she  some- 
times wondered  at  it ;  it  seemed  like  the  result 
of  a  plan.  The  first  morning  after  her  arrival 
she  was  awakened  at  six  o'clock  by  the  flam- 
ing of  the  sun.  She  rose  quickly  and  hurried 


224  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

into  the  next  room  to  draw  the  curtains  there 
so  that  her  mother  might  not  be  awakened 
too.  For  a  moment  she  was  frightened  ;  in  the 
fierce  glare  the  red  hangings  made  the  place  look 
as  if  it  were  on  fire.  Her  mother  was  sleeping 
quietly,  strands  of  her  thin  gray  hair  hanging 
over  her  forehead,  with  one  arm  stretched  on 
the  coverlet.  When  Dorothea  lay  down  again 
she  was  unable  to  sleep.  So  she  decided  to  go 
out  for  a  walk  before  breakfast. 

The  air  was  crisp  and  cool  and  the  grass 
sparkled  in  the  sun.  The  country  looked  as 
fresh  as  if  it  were  spring.  The  foliage  of  the 
trees  was  of  a  vivid  green  ;  in  America  the  trees 
were  just  beginning  to  become  dry  and  sere  and 
the  first  leaves  were  falling.  She  followed  the 
path  that  led  to  the  lake  for  fear  of  losing  her 
way  if  she  chose  another.  No  one  was  in  sight ; 
and  the  great  house  had  the  air  of  being 
asleep. 

When  she  had  gone  halfway  toward  the 
lake  she  noticed  a  wide  path  running  across 
the  hill  to  the  east.  She  decided  to  change  her 
course  and  explore  ;  even  if  she  lost  her  way  it 
would  merely  make  her  late  for  breakfast.  For 
several  moments  she  walked  under  the  trees, 
and  then  suddenly  came  upon  an  open  space 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  225 

within  sight  of  a  group  of  low  buildings  which 
she  supposed  to  be  the  stables.  Her  supposi- 
tion was  confirmed  when  a  man  came  from  be- 
hind one  of  the  buildings  leading  a  horse  by  a 
rope.  He  was  presently  followed  by  another 
figure,  which  she  recognised  as  Sir  Hubert 
Downes.  For  a  moment  she  thought  of  turn- 
ing back  into  the  path  to  keep  out  of  sight. 
Then  she  decided  that  this  would  be  foolish ;  so 
she  walked  on  toward  the  buildings.  Sir  Hu- 
bert did  not  see  her  till  she  had  gone  halfway 
toward  him.  Then  he  looked  surprised  and  he 
hurried  to  meet  her.  He  was  in  a  riding  suit, 
with  high  boots  splashed  with  mud,  and  his 
cheeks  were  even  ruddier  than  they  usually 
seemed. 

"Aren't  you  up  very  early?"  he  said  with 
a  smile,  as  he  offered  her  his  hand.  "  Are  all 
Americans  as  energetic  as  you  are  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  usually  so  energetic  myself,"  Doro- 
thea explained.  "  The  sun  woke  me.  But  I 
like  the  country  in  the  morning." 

"  Do  you  ride  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  I  used  to  when  my  father  was  alive.  But 
I  haven't  ridden  since." 

"  Oh  !  "  Sir  Hubert  looked  sympathetic,  but 
he  couldn't  think  of  anything  appropriate  to  say. 


226  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  try  it  again  ?  "  he  asked 
after  a  moment. 

Her  eyes  brightened.  "  I  should  like  it 
very  much,  but  I  haven't  my  habit  here." 

"  I  think  we  can  get  one  for  you.  We'll 
try  a  horse  to-morrow  morning  if  you  like. 
There's  a  pretty  country  between  here  and 
Hillsborough." 

They  were  walking  round  the  stables,  and 
when  they  reached  one  of  the  buildings  Sir 
Hubert  pushed  the  door  open  and  led  the  way 
in. 

"  I'll  show  you  the  mare  that  I  think  would 
suit  you,"  he  said.  "  She's  very  gentle,  but  she 
has  some  spirit,  too.  You'll  like  her." 

The  horses  standing  quietly  in  the  stalls 
looked  very  contented  and  sleek.  Sir  Hubert 
went  up  to  one  of  them,  a  large  sorrel,  and 
patted  her  on  the  face  and  mane. 

"  Come  in,  Miss  Wayne,"  he  said.  "  Nellie 
won't  hurt  you.  She's  the  most  affectionate 
creature  in  the  world.  Whoa,  Nellie !  Look 
out  for  your  skirts,  Miss  Wayne." 

Dorothea  slid  into  the  stall  beside  the  horses 
and  Nellie's  great  purple  eyes  turned  to  her 
inquiringly.  The  examination  seemed  to  be 
satisfactory,  for  the  horse  thrust  her  head 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


227 


forward  till  it  almost  touched  her  visitor's 
face. 

"  I  knew  Nellie  would  like  you,"  Sir  Hubert 
laughed.  "  That's  a  great  compliment,  too. 
Sometimes  she  turns  her  head  away  when  she 
has  callers,  and  refuses  to  pay  any  attention  to 
them." 

Nellie  kept  trying  to  rub  her  mouth  against 
Dorothea's  face.  Sir  Hubert  seemed  to  be 
greatly  amused. 

"  She's  trying  to  kiss  you.  Don't  be  afraid. 
She  often  kisses  me.  It's  a  little  trick  I  taught 
her  when  she  was  a  colt.  Here,  Nellie,  give 
me  a  kiss,  won't  you  ?  I  haven't  had  a  kiss 
from  you  since  yesterday  morning." 

Nellie,  however,  refused  to  turn.  She  had 
thrust  out  her  tongue  and  was  trying  to  lick 
Dorothea's  cheek. 

"  She's  never  treated  me  like  that,"  Sir  Hu- 
bert went  on.  "  You've  made  a  conquest,  Miss 
Wayne." 

Sir  Hubert  patted  Nellie  affectionately  and 
drew  out  of  the  stall.  Dorothea  turned  from 
the  horse's  caresses  and  followed,  saying  she 
was  sorry  she  hadn't  brought  some  lumps  of 
sugar  with  her.  Then  she  looked  at  the  other 
horses,  one  of  whom  Sir  Hubert  called  Flash, 


228  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

and  described  as  the  only  racer  in  the  sta- 
bles. 

"  If  I  were  very  rich,"  he  said,  "  I'm  afraid  I 
should  ruin  myself  with  racing.  That's  a  little 
weakness  in  our  family.  My  grandfather  made 
a  fortune  by  it,  but  he  lost  it  all  before  he  had 
a  chance  to  spend  any  of  it  on  the  estate." 

They  passed  into  the  other  stables,  several 
of  which  presented  rows  of  empty  stalls,  and 
were  described  by  Sir  Hubert  as  mementoes  of 
the  family's  palmy  days.  Most  of  the  other 
horses  that  Dorothea  saw  were  heavy  animals, 
used  on  the  estate  for  farm  work.  Dorothea 
was  impressed  by  the  perfect  orderliness  that 
she  saw  everywhere.  Sir  Hubert,  she  thought, 
must  be  an  excellent  manager.  When  she 
spoke  of  the  difficulty  of  taking  care  of  such  a 
large  place,  he  laughed  and  said  it  was  easy 
enough  when  one  had  nothing  else  to  do.  It 
was  a  terrible  expense — too  much  for  people  of 
their  limited  means.  But  for  his  mother  he 
would  have  sold  it  long  before.  She  had  a 
great  pride  in  it,  though,  and  she  couldn't  be 
happy  anywhere  else. 

When  they  went  back  to  the  house  they 
found  Harrington  Boyd  walking  in  the  garden. 
He  seemed  surprised  to  see  them  together. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  229 

"  I  thought  I  was  the  only  early  bird,"  he 
smiled,  "  besides  Sir  Hubert.  I  believe  he  never 
goes  to  bed.  He  sits  up  all  night  to  get  a  repu- 
tation for  being  an  early  riser." 

"  You'd  better  come  in  and  take  some  break- 
fast with  us,"  said  Sir  Hubert  amiably.  "  Miss 
Wayne  is  going  to  take  it  with  my  mother  and 
myself." 

"  Thanks,  very  much ;  but  I've  breakfasted 
already  in  my  room." 

"  Aren't  you  equal  to  two  ?  I  am  al- 
ways." 

"  But  I  don't  go  tearing  about  the  country 
beforehand,  as  you  do.  I  have  to  preserve  my 
energy.  I've  got  three  hours  of  work  ahead  of 
me  before  luncheon." 

The  next  day  Dorothea  had  her  first  ride ; 
it  exhilarated  her  and  gave  her  an  appetite  only 
a  little  less  great  than  Sir  Hubert's.  She  found 
herself  opposite  Lady  Downes  at  the  little  table 
in  the  breakfast  room,  where  the  sun  was  flam- 
ing in  through  the  open  windows.  Lady 
Downes  seemed  at  her  best  in  the  early  morn- 
ing. 

"  I  always  wake  up  cheerful,  and  I'm  never 
so  glad  to  be  alive  as  I  am  then,"  she  said,  re- 
minding Dorothea  of  Lady  Bloomsbury's  speech 


230 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


on  the  same  subject.  "  It's  a  sign  of  good 
health,  Dr.  March  says." 

Dorothea  sometimes  wondered  at  her  unflag- 
ging cheerfulness ;  nearly  all  the  American 
women  that  she  knew  had  the  blues  occasion- 
ally. Lady  Downes,  in  spite  of  her  sixty-five 
years,  never  seemed  even  fatigued. 

"  When  I  was  your  age,  my  dear,"  she  said 
to  Dorothea  one  day,  "  I  used  to  think  nothing 
of  walking  twenty  miles  across  the  country. 
Once  I  walked  fifteen  miles  to  a  ball  and  then 
back  again.  There  was  a  disease  among  the 
horses;  so  we  couldn't  drive.  And  the  next 
day  I  got  up  as  usual  at  half  past  six  and  had 
breakfast  with  my  father.  I  was  a  Brackenbury, 
and  the  Brackenburys  are  famous  for  their 
health."  Then  she  added  proudly,  "  Hubert 
is  like  them." 

Lady  Downes  loved  to  talk  about  her  son, 
and  when  Dorothea  was  alone  with  her  she 
sang  his  praises.  One  of  her  chief  pleasures  lay 
in  recounting  in  detail  the  plots  that  scheming 
dowagers  had  made  to  entrap  him  for  their 
daughters.  From  all  of  these  he  had  extricated 
himself  with  wonderful  skill,  without  giving 
offence  to  any  one.  Lady  Downes  believed  that 
Hubert  didn't  have  an  enemy  in  the  world  ; 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  23! 

among  the  people  of  the  village  he  was  re- 
garded as  a  hero ;  they  often  asked  him  to 
settle  their  disputes,  instead  of  going  to  law 
about  them,  and  they  accepted  his  decision 
without  the  least  objection ;  they  knew  how 
honest  he  was. 

After  breakfast  Dorothea  devoted  herself 
till  luncheon  to  sketching  ;  she  soon  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  most  picturesque  spots  on  the 
place,  and  these  gave  her  plenty  of  material. 
Occasionally  she  met  Sir  Hubert  in  her  wan- 
derings ;  but  he  usually  passed  her  with  a 
bow  and  a  smile  ;  he  always  seemed  busy  at 
these  times,  though  just  what  he  did  she  was 
unable  to  make  out.  She  took  one  long  walk 
with  Lady  Bloomsbury,  who  displayed  a  great 
liking  for  her  and  confided  to  her  many  of  her 
secrets.  With  Dorothea  Lady  Bloomsbury  put. 
off  her  affectations;  yet  her  views  seemed  curi- 
ously inconsistent  and  eccentric,  as  if  they  had 
been  warped  by  the  life  she  had  led  since  her 
marriage.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  she  had 
fallen  in  love  with  the  man  who,  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  the  family,  afterward  became  her 
husband  ;  even  then  his  vices  were  known,  but 
she  had  refused  to  believe  the  stories  current 
about  him.  Her  account  of  the  seven  years 


232 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


she  had  lived  with  him  shocked  Dorothea ; 
Lady  Bloomsbury  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in 
dwelling  on  the  most  painful  details.  As  a 
member  of  the  Church  of  England,  she  had 
very  strict  ideas  about  divorce  and  she  had  re- 
fused to  seek  even  a  judicial  separation.  Some- 
times she  amused  Dorothea  by  giving  her  advice 
about  marriage. 

"  No  woman  should  marry  till  she's  thirty- 
five,"  she  said  one  day.  "  Until  then  she's  in- 
capable of  forming  a  rational  opinion  about 
men.  Besides,  if  she  does  wait  till  she's  thirty- 
five  she'll  probably  see  the  wisdom  of  not  mar- 
rying at  all ;  so  she  escapes  the  risk  of  knowing 
the  greatest  misery  that  any  woman  can  know. 
Above  all  things,  my  dear,  never  marry  an 
Englishman;  Englishmen  don't  know  how  to 
treat  women.  I've  heard  that  Americans  make 
the  best  husbands,  but  I  haven't  known  enough 
of  them  to  be  able  to  judge  for  myself.  Any- 
way, they  can't  be  worse  than  Englishmen. 
The  only  Englishman  I've  ever  known  who  I 
thought  could  make  a  woman  really  happy  is 
Sir  Hubert  Downes,  and  in  my  opinion  he'll 
never  marry  any  one.  His  mother  has  made 
him  what  he  is,  and  she'll  keep  him  as  he  is  ; 
he's  so  wrapped  up  in  her  that  he'll  never  see 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


233 


any  one  to  compare  with  her.  After  all,  it's 
the  women  that  make  men  what  they  are.  We 
spoil  them,  and  then  they  turn  on  us  and  rend 
us,  as  some  one  has  said  about  some  animals." 

At  times  Dorothea  was  unable  to  follow  the 
convolutions  of  Lady  Bloombury's  thought ; 
it  seemed  to  run  from  one  topic  to  another 
with  an  untiring  swiftness.  Lady  Bloomsbury's 
quick  deductions  were  often  quite  unwarranted ; 
like  many  clever  women,  always  seeking  for 
motives,  she  drew  conclusions  from  insufficient 
facts,  she  was  too  quick  to  form  an  opinion. 

When  confronted  with  a  question  on  vital 
topics  Dorothea  was  often  obliged  to  say  that 
she  didn't  know,  she  hadn't  thought  enough 
about  the  subject,  or  she  hadn't  had  experience 
enough  to  judge.  At  first  she  feared  that 
Lady  Bloomsbury  would  think,  because  of 
this  lack  of  readiness,  that  she  was  stupid ; 
but  she  soon  discerned  that  it  made  no  differ- 
ence ;  even  if  she  had  disagreed  with  her,  the 
countess  would  not  have  changed  her  mind 
on  any  point. 

Of  Harrington  Boyd,  Dorothea  saw  very 
much  more  than  she  had  hoped  during  her 
stay  at  Broadoaks.  He  had  a  habit  for  hap- 
pening around  after  her  ride  in  the  morn- 


234  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

ing  with  Sir  Hubert,  and  in  the  evenings  he 
persistently  devoted  himself  to  her.  When  he 
was  not  with  her,  however,  he  spent  much  of 
his  time  with  Lady  Bloomsbury.  There  was  a 
suggestion  of  camaraderie  between  them  that 
surprised  Dorothea ;  she  suspected,  too,  that 
Boyd  was  making  a  study  of  Lady  Blooms- 
bury,  prying  into  her  secrets  as  he  had  done 
with  the  original  of  Mabel  Granger.  Once  she 
had  a  fancy  that  he  was  trying  to  flirt  with 
Lady  Bloomsbury  in  her  presence,  possibly  for 
the  purpose  of  making  her  jealous ;  but  this 
fancy  she  dismissed  as  absurd ;  she  despised 
him,  but  she  believed  he  had  too  much  in- 
telligence to  do  that.  After  the  fourth  day, 
as  she  reviewed  her  visit,  she  felt  glad  that  she 
had  come  to  Broadoaks,  and  she  was  sorry  to 
leave  the  next  afternoon. 


XVI. 

AT  the  very  moment  when  Dorothea  was 
thinking  of  her  departure  from  Broadoaks  her 
mother  was  in  conference  with  Lady  Downes 
and  Mrs.  Ladd.  The  subject  under  discussion 
was  the  prolongation  of  Mrs.  Wayne's  visit  for 
at  least  three  or  four  days.  For  the  sake  of 
appearances  Mrs.  Wayne  thought  it  best  to  be 
coy.  She  would  have  liked  to  remain  with 
Lady  Downes  all  summer,  but  it  was  only 
with  apparent  difficulty  that  she  was  finally 
persuaded  to  linger  till  the  end  of  the  week. 
The  Ladds  had  decided  to  stay  a  few  days 
longer. 

When  Mrs.  Wayne  spoke  to  Dorothea  about 
the  change  of  plan  she  was  surprised  to  en- 
counter  no  objection.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  de- 
cided to  pass  most  of  the  month  of  August 
in  Scotland,  that  is,  she  had  suggested  the 
plan  to  her  daughter ;  secretly,  she  relied  on 
a  certain  dramatic  event  to  shape  her  move- 


235 


236  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

ments  quite  differently.  During  her  talks  with 
Mrs.  Ladd  at  Broadoaks  she  had  had  the  most 
intense  spiritual  experiences  of  her  life  ;  there 
were  moments  when  she  felt  exalted,  when  she 
seemed  hardly  to  touch  the  earth.  Oswego, 
New  York,  the  Misses  Marbury,  even  Annetta 
Griffin,  were  as  remote  from  her  as  if  they 
lived  in  another  sphere.  Sometimes  in  the 
morning,  when  she  sat  alone  in  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's room,  the  red-silk  hangings  ablaze  in 
the  sunshine,  she  became  almost  frightened ; 
she  was  like  one  who  trembled  from  too  much 
happiness,  from  a  consciousness  of  the  grim 
humour  of  fate. 

The  next  morning  Dorothea  rose  at  half  past 
six  to  take  her  ride  with  Sir  Hubert.  She 
found  him  waiting  in  the  lower  hall ;  the 
horses  were  standing  at  the  door. 

With  Nellie  Dorothea  had  established  the 
most  friendly  relations ;  every  morning  the 
horse  kissed  her  and  lapped  her  face  and 
munched  the  bits  of  sugar  that  she  gave  her. 

To-day,  instead  of  riding  Flash,  Sir  Hubert 
rode  Roderick,  a  new  horse  that  he  had  bought 
only  a  few  weeks  before.  At  first  Roderick 
seemed  restless,  but  after  they  passed  out  of  the 
park,  into  the  broad  road,  he  settled  to  a  steady 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  237 

trot,  and  Nellie  followed.  The  morning  was 
cool  and  clear  and  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun 
shot  through  the  trees.  Dorothea's  face  glowed 
as  she  rose  and  sank  in  the  saddle.  For  several 
moments  Sir  Hubert  didn't  speak,  then  he  called 
out: 

"  I'm  glad  this  isn't  going  to  be  our  last  ride." 
"  So  am  I,"  Dorothea  responded. 
"  I  wish  you  could  be  here  for  the  hunting 
season.     You'd  like  that." 

"  I'm  afraid  we  shall  be  in  America  then." 
Roderick  spurted  and  bore  his  rider  several 
yards  away  from   Nellie.      Sir   Hubert  reined 
him    in,    however,   and    allowed    Dorothea    to 
overtake  him. 

"  When  do  you  go  back  ?  "  he  asked,  when 
she  was  at  his  side  again  and  they  were  riding 
together. 

"  Early  next  month,  I  think.  Mother  will 
be  anxious  to  see  her  old  friends  again  by 
that  time." 

"  But  you  would  like  to  stay  longer  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  like  England  very  much." 
Their  horses  had  lapsed  into  a  walk,  and  for 
a  moment  they  went  on  side  by  side.     Then  Sir 
Hubert  started    Roderick    into   a    trot  again, 
Nellie  clattering  behind  him. 

16 


238 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


"  You'd  make  a  famous  mount.  You  and 
Nellie  would  beat  the  field,"  he  laughed. 
"  You  must  be  a  born  rider.  You're  in  sym- 
pathy with  your  horse.  That's  a  great  point." 

Nellie  was  going  too  fast  to  allow  Dorothea 
to  acknowledge  the  compliment.  For  the  next 
half  hour  they  spoke  only  at  intervals,  and  gave 
themselves  up  to  the  exhilaration  of  riding. 
Suddenly,  Dorothea  saw  a  bicyclist  coming  rap- 
idly toward  her.  Before  she  had  time  to  slacken 
speed,  she  passed  Roderick  and  flew  up  the  road 
toward  the  turning  that  led  to  Renwick.  Doro- 
thea did  not  understand  the  cause  of  this  sudden 
increase  of  speed.  She  tried  to  rein  Nellie  in, 
but  the  effort  had  the  effect  of  making  her  go 
faster.  Then  she  decided  to  let  the  rein  hang 
loose  and  the  horse  tire  herself  out.  She 
didn't  feel  nervous ;  she  supposed  Nellie  had 
been  frightened  by  something  on  the  road, 
and  would  grow  quiet  again  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. She  did  not  dare  turn  into  the  Ren- 
wick  road  for  fear  of  being  thrown. 

So  Nellie,  rapidly  gaining  speed,  shot 
straight  ahead,  apparently  determined  to  es- 
cape from  some  unknown  terror.  Dorothea 
could  hear  the  clattering  of  Roderick's  hoofs 
behind  her ;  Sir  Hubert  had  evidently  started 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  239 

in  pursuit.  If  he  had  been  riding  Flash  he 
might  easily  have  overtaken  her ;  but  for  some 
moments  he  was  unable  to  lessen  the  distance 
between  the  two  horses. 

Dorothea  was  now  thoroughly  frightened ; 
she  said  to  herself  that  if  Nellie  didn't  subside 
in  a  few  minutes  she  should  fall  from  the  sad- 
dle from  sheer  terror.  Even  now  she  sat 
mechanically  in  her  seat ;  a  sudden  change  of 
the  horse's  motion  would  surely  throw  her. 
The  steady  beat  of  the  hoofs  on  the  hard 
road  seemed  to  be  pounding  itself  on  her  brain. 

For  several  moments  she  felt  as  if  she  were 
clinging  to  life  by  the  merest  thread  of  con- 
sciousness. Then  she  heard  Roderick  ap- 
proaching ;  she  wondered  what  would  happen  if 
he  came  up  to  her.  Surely  Sir  Hubert  would 
not  attempt  to  stop  him  ;  if  he  seized  Nellie's 
bridle  she  would  herself  be  thrown  forward 
and  trampled.  She  knew  that  he  was  only  a 
hand's  length  behind  her,  but  she  could  not 
put  her  fears  into  speech.  The  two  animals 
were  neck  and  neck  now.  She  could  not  see 
Sir  Hubert's  face,  but  she  fancied  that  she 
saw  it,  white  and  rigid.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  grasped  Nellie's  bridle  near  the  bit. 
For  several  moments  the  two  horses  ran  to- 


240 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


gether.  Dorothea  knew  that  she  could  not 
keep  her  seat  much  longer,  but  when  Sir 
Hubert  cried,  "  Hold  on,  Miss  Wayne  !  She'll 
calm  down  in  a  minute,"  she  determined  not  to 
yield  to  her  weakness. 

Sir  Hubert's  promise  was  not  literally  kept, 
for  at  least  three  minutes  passed  before  he 
brought  Nellie  to  a  standstill.  Then  he  jumped 
from  Roderick,  who  was  wet  with  foam,  and, 
still  clinging  to  Nellie's  bridle,  he  gave  one 
hand  to  Dorothea  and  helped  her  from  her 
seat.  She  came  near  sinking  to  the  ground, 
but  with  an  effort  she  staggered  to  the  fence 
on  one  side  of  the  road,  and  hung  over  it,  trying 
to  catch  her  breath. 

For  several  minutes  she  stood  there  without 
speaking,  shaking  her  head  whenever  Sir  Hu- 
bert made  a  suggestion  for  her  comfort.  Then 
she  brushed  her  hair  back  from  her  forehead 
and  turned  her  white  face  toward  him  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"  I  think  I'm  all  right  now,"  she  said. 

"  By  Jove,  you've  got  grit !  "  he  exclaimed, 
looking  down  at  her  admiringly.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  apologize  for  the  behaviour  of  the  horse. 
"  It  was  that  bicyclist  that  we  passed  near  the 
Renwick  road.  Nellie  isn't  used  to  the  bicycle 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


241 


yet,  and  it  always  frightens  her."  He  bent  over 
and  looked  curiously  at  one  of  Nellie's  feet. 

"  Then  that  was  why  she  ran  away,"  said 
Dorothea,  seeking  an  explanation  for  Nellie's 
misbehaviour  that  would  soothe  her  injured 
pride  as  a  rider. 

"  Yes,  that  must  have  been  it."  Then  he 
added,  looking  around  vaguely  on  the  open 
country.  "  She's  dropped  one  of  her  shoes.  I 
don't  know  how  we're  going  to  get  home." 

He  turned  to  Dorothea  again.  Their  eyes 
met  and  they  both  laughed. 

"  We're  in  a  fix,  as  you  Americans  say." 

"  If  I  weren't  so  weak  I  shouldn't  mind 
walking  back,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  But  what  should  we  do  with  the  horses  ?  " 

"  If  Nellie  were  shod  I  could  ride  her  back. 
Couldn't  we  take  her  to  Renwick  and  have 
her  shod  ?  " 

"  You  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  ride  her  again !  " 
Sir  Hubert  cried  in  surprise.  "  You  certainly 
have  grit." 

For  several  moments  they  discussed  the 
situation,  and  finally  decided  to  go  to  Popple- 
ton,  the  nearest  village,  about  a  mile  away, 
where  Nellie  could  be  shod.  Sir  Hubert  in- 
sisted upon  placing  Dorothea's  saddle  on 


242 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


Roderick,  and  as  she  rode  he  walked  by  her 
side,  leading  Nellie.  He  wanted  to  ride  Nellie, 
but  he  yielded  to  Dorothea's  objections.  Doro- 
thea was  surprised  not  to  feel  the  effects  of  her 
fright  more  than  she  did.  She  was  still  nerv- 
ous and  pale ;  but  she  felt  curiously  happy, 
perhaps  at  the  thought  of  having  had  such  an 
unexpected  escape  from  serious  injury  and 
possible  death.  She  rode  slowly,  so  that  Sir 
Hubert  might  keep  pace  with  her ;  Roderick, 
moreover,  seemed  to  be  exhausted  from  his 
hard  run,  and  Nellie's  listless  gait  and  the 
shamefaced  way  in  which  she  hung  her  head 
showed  she  had  lost  her  spirit. 

When  they  reached  the  village  they  found  a 
blacksmith  at  his  forge.  Tt  would  take  at  least 
half  an  hour  to  shoe  Nellie,  he  said.  Doro- 
thea resigned  herself  to  wait,  and  Sir  Hubert 
looked  impatient. 

"  Aren't  you  hungry  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling 
down  at  her. 

She  shook  her  head.     "  But  you  must  be." 

"  I  am,"  he  acknowledged.  "  While  we're 
waiting  we  might  go  up  to  the  hotel  and  take 
breakfast.  Then  we  can  have  another  one  when 
we  go  back." 

She  smiled  her  consent,  and  rose  from  the 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


243 


wooden  chair  that  the  blacksmith  had  placed 
for  her  beside  the  open  doors  of  his  shop.  They 
walked  up  the  winding  road  leading  to  the  cen- 
tre of  the  village,  past  low  brick  houses  like  those 
she  had  seen  during  the  drive  from  Penley  to 
Broadoaks.  It  was  barely  half  past  seven,  and 
they  met  groups  of  labourers  on  their  way  to 
work;  the  houses  had  the  air  of  just  waking 
up  ;  most  of  the  front  windows  were  open  and 
muslin  curtains  swayed  in  the  breeze.  The 
little  front  gardens  were  filled  with  flowers,  giv- 
ing the  soft  morning  air  a  faint  fragrance. 

Dorothea  observed  these  details  half  uncon- 
sciously ;  afterward  they  came  back  to  her  with 
surprising  distinctness.  Sir  Hubert  hardly 
spoke;  they  walked  together  like  two  people 
who  knew  each  other  well  enough  to  dispense 
with  speech  when  they  had  nothing  in  particu- 
lar to  say. 

At  the  hotel,  in  spite  of  Dorothea's  protests, 
Sir  Hubert  ordered  what  he  called  an  "  Ameri- 
can breakfast,"  and  she  felt  obliged  to  eat. 
There  was  something  in  his  manner  toward  her 
that  she  had  not  noticed  before,  an  odd  combina- 
tion of  deference  and  tenderness  which  amused 
and  touched  her.  Though  she  now  felt  no  bad 
effects  from  her  fright,  he  acted  as  if  she  were 


244  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

still  to  be  treated  as  a  sufferer.  When  they  re- 
turned to  the  blacksmith's  they  had  a  contest  as 
to  who  should  ride  Nellie  home.  Dorothea  won, 
and  when  she  sat  in  the  saddle  again  and  patted 
Nellie's  head  she  laughed  into  his  face.  She 
nodded  to  the  blacksmith,  and,  as  Sir  Hubert 
mounted,  she  clattered  down  the  road.  In  his 
grimy  leather  apron  the  blacksmith  watched 
them  till  they  had  turned  the  corner  that  took 
them  from  his  sight. 


XVII. 

WHEN  they  reached  Broadoaks  they  found 
Lady  Downes  and  Mrs.  Ladd  in  a  state  of  nerv- 
ous apprehension.  A  tradesman  of  the  village, 
coming  down  the  hill  from  Renwick,  had  seen 
Sir  Hubert  in  pursuit  of  Dorothea's  horse  and 
informed  the  servants  at  Broadoaks  of  the  run- 
away. In  a  moment  both  horses  had  disap- 
peared, and  he  could  not  tell  whether  they  had 
taken  the  road  toward  Renwick  or  Penley 
Manor. 

The  servant  repeated  the  news  to  Lady 
Downes,  who  at  once  sent  Harrington  Boyd  in 
a  carriage  to  Renwick  in  search  of  Dorothea ; 
she  had  heard  her  son  say  the  night  before  that 
he  intended  to  go  to  Renwick  in  the  morning. 

Mrs.  Ladd,  excitable  when  there  was  no 
cause  for  excitement,  and  cool  in  an  emergency, 
was  at  once  consulted.  She  quickly  decided 
that  the  tradesman  might  have  made  a  mistake  ; 
he  had  seen  the  horses  in  full  gallop  and  had 


215 


246  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

rashly  concluded  that  one  of  them  was  running 
away ;  in  any  event,  Mrs.  Wayne  must  not  be  in- 
formed of  the  news. 

Dorothea  was  amused  to  hear  that  he  had 
not  yet  returned  from  his  quest  of  her.  When 
she  had  given  an  account  of  her  adventure,  Lady 
Downes  was  moved  to  tears,  though  Dorothea 
had  tried  to  be  as  matter  of  fact  as  possible. 
She  urged  Dorothea  to  go  to  her  room  and  lie 
down ;  she  must  be  suffering  from  the  shock. 

To  please  her,  Dorothea  did  go  to  her  room  ; 
but  she  did  not  lie  down.  Though  it  was  past 
nine  o'clock  her  mother  still  slept ;  so  she  tip- 
toed through  the  room.  On  her  dressing  table 
she  found  a  letter  in  the  handwriting  of  Aleck 
French,  bearing  the  postmark  "  London."  She 
tore  it  open  and  read  the  dozen  lines  that  it  con- 
tained. These  announced  his  return  from  Paris 
the  night  before  and  ended  with  the  request  that 
he  might  come  to  see  her.  She  could  not  un- 
derstand why  the  letter  vexed  her.  She  did  not 
realize  that  she  was  still  suffering  from  the 
shock  of  the  morning ;  she  merely  knew  that 
she  felt  nervous  and  irritable,  and  could  not  face 
her  mother  without  betraying  her  feelings. 
So  she  put  on  her  hat  and  went  out  of  the 
room. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  247 

The  house  was  quiet,  and  she  met  no  one  on 
the  stairs  or  in  the  lower  hall.  She  noticed 
a  door  that  led  into  the  garden.  This  she 
opened  and  walked  along  the  path  toward  the 
woods.  Only  a  few  feeble-looking  flowers  were 
in  the  beds,  cut  into  squares  by  low  hedges  of 
evergreens.  In  the  centre  of  each  stood  a  white 
marble  figure  of  mythology,  in  nearly  every  in- 
stance with  a  piece  chipped  off  the  face  and 
blackened  and  worn  with  age.  When  Dorothea 
reached  the  farther  end  of  the  garden  she  turned 
and  looked  back  on  the  house.  The  cathedral- 
like  windows  were  flashing  in  the  sun,  and  the 
whole  place  seemed  to  glow.  No  one  was  in 
sight. 

The  path  led  down  a  steep  incline,  and  then 
wound  along  the  slope  of  the  hill.  Dorothea 
followed  it  to  the  lake  at  the  end,  directly  oppo- 
site the  summerhouse.  She  walked  along  the 
edge,  and  as  she  approached  the  bank  a  man's 
figure  came  from  behind  the- studio.  When  he 
lifted  his  tennis  cap  and  smiled  Dorothea  saw 
that  he  was  Harrington  Boyd. 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said,  as  they 
approached  within  speaking  distance. 

"  Have  you  really  ? "  she  replied,  with  a 
touch  of  the  superciliousness  that  she  practised 


248  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

on  no  one  but  him.     "  How  did  you   know   I 
was  coming?" 

"  I  knew  you  came  down  here  to  sketch 
every  morning.  I  suppose  you're  taking  advan- 
tage of  this  lovely  country." 

Dorothea  looked  vaguely  around.  "  It  is  a 
lovely  country,"  she  said. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  on  the  veranda  for  a 
moment?  We  can  have  a  quiet  talk  then.  I 
was  glad  to  hear  you  had  come  out  of  your  little 
accident  so  well,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that 
made  her  feel  uncomfortable.  "  I  suppose  they 
told  you  I'd  been  in  pursuit  of  you." 

She  thanked  him  for  the  trouble  he  had 
taken  in  her  behalf.  Then  she  sat  on  the  seat 
that  he  offered  her,  and  looked  across  the  lake 
to  the  west.  The  air  seemed  to  sparkle  in  the 
sunlight. 

"  This  is  England,"  said  Harrington  Boyd, 
making  a  sweeping  gesture  with  his  hand. 

She  nodded. 

"  This  is  England  at  its  best.  On  a  day  like 
this  it's  the  finest  country  in  the  world.  But  I 
never  could  understand  why  it  is  called  '  Merrie 
England.'  Externally,  at  any  rate,  England  is 
the  saddest  country  in  the  world.  But  after  all, 
there's  nothing  like  that,"  he  went  on,  pointing 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  249 

toward  Broakoaks.  "  There's  poetry  there — 
there's  history,  art,  romance,  civilization,  every- 
thing that  lifts  life  from  the  dead  level  of  the 
commonplace,  and  makes  it  really  worth  living." 

She  did  not  reply. 

"  We  pretend  we  don't  care  for  those  things," 
he  resumed,  "  but  that's  just  because  we  don't 
have  them,  or  rather  because  we  can't  have 
them.  So  we  set. up  other  things  in  their 
places  and  try  to  make  ourselves  think  they  are 
fine." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Dorothea  smiled. 

"  England  is  spoiling  you,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said : 

"  I'm  sure  it  won't  spoil  you''' 

She  began  to  feel  uneasy,  and  was  about  to 
suggest  that  she  must  resume  her  work.  Then 
she  thought  she  heard  a  noise  in  the  studio 
above.  She  wondered  if  any  one  could  be 
there.  She  herself  had  a  key  to  the  door,  but 
she  rarely  took  the  trouble  to  lock  it.  The 
studio  seemed  to  be  free  to  any  one  who  chose 
to  enter.  She  looked  up  toward  the  open  win- 
dow, but  seeing  no  one,  she  decided  that  she 
had  been  mistaken. 

"  How  curious  it  is  that  we  should  be  sitting 


250 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


here  in  this  place  ! "  Boyd  resumed.  "  Let  me 
see.  It's  just  about  a  year  since  I  met  you." 

"  A  year  next  August,"  Dorothea  replied 
briskly,  as  if  referring  to  a  matter  of  business. 

He  looked  out  at  the  lake,  but  his  eyes 
seemed  to  see  nothing. 

"  How  many  things  have  happened  since 
then  !  "  he  said,  apparently  soliloquizing. 

"  To  you  ?     Have  they  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  ignoring  her 
question,  "  my  meeting  you  last  year  was  one  of 
the  best  things  that  ever  happened  to  me.  You 
taught  me  a  great  many  things." 

«  Did  I  really  ?  " 

Dorothea's  face  turned  scarlet,  and  he  seemed 
to  take  pleasure  in  the  confusion  he  was  causing 
her. 

"  Yes,  you  taught  me  a  great  deal  about 
women  and  a  great  deal  about  myself.  Before 
I  met  you  I  didn't  know  myself.  Now,  thanks 
to  you,"  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "  I've  made  a 
very  interesting  acquaintance." 

He  glanced  at  her  again  to  see  what  effect 
his  words  were  having.  Her  face  was  impas- 
sive. 

"  I  suppose  you  remember  that  I  told  you  I 
was  in  love  with  you,"  he  resumed.  "  Or  per- 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  251 

X 

haps  you've  forgotten  it.  I  dare  say  a  good 
many  men  have  told  you  that.  So,  perhaps  you 
won't  mind  if  I  tell  you  now  that  I  was  quite 
mistaken." 

"  No ;  I  don't  mind,"  Dorothea  replied.  "  I 
am  not  at  all  surprised." 

"  You  interested  me  more  than  any  one  I  had 
ever  known.  That  was  why  I  thought  I  was  in 
love  with  you.  I  must  confess  that  you  interest 
me  still — yes,  you  interest  me  very  much.  At 
this  moment,  you  are  even  more  interesting  to 
me  than  you  were  last  year.  There  are  more 
complications  now,  you  see.  You  don't  mind 
my  being  so  frank  with  you,  do  you  ?  If  you 
weren't  so  intelligent  I  shouldn't  be  so  frank. 
But  we  are  both  intelligent.  So  why  shouldn't 
we  speak  out?" 

He  smiled  down  into  her  face,  but  she  did 
not  look  at  him,  and  her  own  face  did  not  change 
expression.  "  I  think  I  have  always  been  frank 
with  you,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  You  have  been  more  than  frank.  You  have 
been  as  outspoken  as — well,  as  any  woman  can 
be  with  a  man.  I  suppose  you  wonder  why  I 
say  this  to  you.  I  say  it  so  that  we  may  be 
friends  again.  Since  we've  been  at  Broadoaks 
you  haven't  treated  me  quite  as  if  we  were 


252  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

friends.  Can't  we  be  friends?"  he  concluded, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

She  ignored  the  hand. 

"  Of  course  we  can  be  friends,"  she  laughed. 
"  There's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  we 
shouldn't  be." 

He  did  not  offer  his  hand  a  second  time. 
When  he  spoke  again  she  thought  she  detected 
a  suggestion  of  irritation  in  his  tone. 

"  You  are  really  a  remarkable  person.  After 
going  through  what  you  went  through  this 
morning  nine  women  out  of  ten  would  take  to 
their  beds  for  weeks.  But  you  look  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened,  as  if  you  rather  enjoyed  the 
experience  of  risking  your  life." 

Dorothea  could  not  have  told  why  this 
speech  vexed  her.  Afterward,  when  she 
thought  it  over,  she  saw  that  she  had  a  vague 
consciousness  of  the  insinuation  it  contained. 
Harrington  Boyd  kept  his  eyes  upon  her,  but 
she  was  looking  straight  ahead.  He  still  smiled, 
but  the  smile  was  not  particularly  joyous. 

"  It  was  really  providential,"  he  went  on, 
"your  horse's  running  away." 

"  Providential  ?  " 

"  Yes,  opportune.  It  was  just  the  kind  of 
adventure  that  would  please  Mrs.  Ladd.  It's 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


253 


given  a  delicious  touch  of  romance  to  your 
visit." 

Dorothea  turned  and  looked  at  him  coldly. 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

He  burst  out  laughing,  and  returned  her 
look  without  flinching ;  but  she  thought  she 
detected  a  faint  flush  around  his  eyes. 

"  I  assure  you  I  don't  mean  to  be  enig- 
matical," he  said.  "  It's  been  plain  enough  to 
me  all  along.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  why 
Mrs.  Ladd  secured  the  invitation  for  you  and 
your  mother  to  come  up  here  ?  She  wanted  to 
bag  Sir  Hubert  for  you.  Surely  it  can't  be 
that  you  haven't  seen  that — any  one  as  keen 
as  you  are!  Your  mother  and  Mrs.  Ladd 
had  it  all  planned  out  before  you  came,  and 
even  Lady  Dovvnes  is  in  the  conspiracy.  So 
you'll  understand  what  I  mean  by  saying  the 
runaway  horse  was  opportune.  It  was  a  very 
pretty  incident,  and  it  will  help  matters  along. 
Those  things  are  often  revelations  to  men  ;  it 
opens  their  eyes.  I  haven't  a  doubt  Sir  Hu- 
bert  " 

Dorothea  had  been  breathing  hard  and 
looking  at  him  with  whitening  lips,  as  if  fas- 
cinated by  what  he  was  saying.  Suddenly, 

she  rose   from   her  seat.      "  I   won't   listen  to 
17 


254  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

another  word.  How  dare  you  insult  me  like 
this?  I  thought  you  had  at  least  the  man- 
ners of  a  gentleman,  but  now  I  see  you 
would  stoop  to  anything,  even  to  insulting 
a  woman,  to  gratify  your  petty  spite." 

She  turned  to  gather  her  wraps,  which  had 
fallen  on  the  chair. 

"  I  think  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile.  "  You  imagine  that  I'm 
jealous  of  Sir  Hubert.  You're  quite  mistaken 
there.  On  the  contrary,  I've  done  all  I  could 
to  help  on  the  little  conspiracy.  I've  really 
been  magnanimous,  and  this  is  the  way  you 
show  your  appreciation.  But  I  never  expect 
gratitude  from  a  woman  in  these  matters." 

She  had  taken  her  wraps  in  her  hand,  and 
was  walking  past  him  as  if  she  neither  heard 
nor  saw  him.  Her  face,  which  had  turned 
pale,  was  flushed  now,  and  her  eyes  were  dark 
with  anger. 

As  she  approached  the  house  her  anger 
subsided  and  she  felt,  so  weak  and  ill  that  she 
feared  she  should  become  faint  before  reach- 
ing her  room.  She  felt  that  she  had  just  had 
an  illumination  !  For  the  moment  her  resent- 
ment against  Harrington  Boyd  was  lost  in  her 
self-accusation  !  All  he  had  said  was  true,  she 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


255 


kept  crying  to  herself.  She  had  been  a  fool 
not  to  know  it  before  !  But  she  had  really 
known  it,  and  she  had  chosen  to  ignore  the 
truth,  to  allow  herself  to  be  caught  in  the 
toils  of  her  mother's  scheming  with  that 
woman  from  New  York.  Oh,  she  was  justly 
punished !  Of  course,  every  one  in  the  house 
understood  why  she  had  come  there  and  must 
despise  her  as  a  vulgar  adventuress.  At  this 
moment  they  were  probably  laughing,  as  Har- 
rington Boyd  had  done,  over  the  runaway  of 
the  morning,  and  saying  that  it  was  a  clever 
trick.  Her  whole  body  tingled  with  shame  at 
the  thought.  But  she  would  take  herself  out 
of  such  an  odious  position.  She  would  not 
stay  another  night  under  the  roof  of  Sir  Hu- 
bert Downes ! 


XVIII. 

ON  reaching  the  house  Dorothea  hurried 
up  the  stairs.  She  was  startled  to  find  her 
mother  still  in  bed  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  since 
the  early  hours  of  the  morning  she  had  herself 
passed  through  the  experiences  of  years ;  dur- 
ing this  time  her  mother  had  been  sleeping. 
Mrs.  Wayne  saw  that  something  dramatic  had 
either  happened  or  was  going  to  happen.  For 
a  moment  a  consciousness  of  her  mother's 
thoughts  restrained  Dorothea ;  then  as  she  un- 
pinned her  hat  before  the  looking-glass,  which 
reflected  her  white  face,  she  burst  out. 

"  We  can't  stay  here  any  longer,  mother. 
We  must  leave  to-day  as  we  intended." 

"  Leave  to-day  ?  "  Mrs.  Wayne  sat  up,  and 
her  nightdress  assumed  a  pinkish  hue  from 
the  sun  and  the  red  hangings.  "  What  are  you 
talking  about  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  we  must  go  away  from 
here.  I  can't  stay  a  day  longer.  I  wont 

256 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


257 


stay.  If  you  won't  come  with  me  I  shall  go 
alone." 

Dorothea  kept  her  back  turned  to  the  bed 
so  that  her  mother  should  not  scrutinize  her 
face. 

"  You  must  be  crazy.  When  we  told  them 
yesterday " 

"  No  matter  what  we  told  them  !  "  Dorothea 
cried,  almost  hysterically.  "  Nothing-  in  the 
world  will  make  me  stay  here  another  day. 
I've  had  enough  of  it.  I  can't  bear  it  any 
longer.  I  must  have  my  way  about  this.  I've 
yielded  to  you  in  everything  since  we  came 
over  here.  I've  done  things  that  I  didn't  want 
to  do.  I've  humiliated  myself,  I've  put  up 
with  impudence  and  insults.  Now  I  won't  en- 
dure it  any  longer.  I'm  going  this  afternoon. 
I  won't " 

Her  voice  broke  and  she  hurried  into  her 
own  room  and  closed  the  door. 

Mrs.  Wayne  leaned  on  her  elbow  and  stared 
at  the  door,  as  if  trying  to  read  there  some  ex- 
planation of  her  daughter's  conduct.  Then  she 
began  to  weep  softly  into  one  hand.  Suddenly, 
as  if  on  impulse,  she  dried  her  tears,  rose  from 
the  bed,  and  dressed  herself  quickly.  Opening 
the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  she  peered  up 


258  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

and  down,  and  then  slipped  over  to  Mrs. 
Ladd's  room  at  one  end  of  the  corridor. 

There  was  no  response  to  her  knock,  and 
she  turned  away  with  a  look  of  bitter  disap- 
pointment. For  a  moment,  she  hesitated  at 
her  daughter's  door,  then  entered  without 
knocking.  A  trunk  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  Dorothea  was  packing  her  dresses. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  give  me  an  explanation  now 
of  this  freak  of  yours,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne,  with 
exaggerated  dignity. 

"  I've  already  given  you  an  explanation, 
mother,"  Dorothea  replied,  busily  continuing 
packing.  "  I  can't  stay  here  any  longer." 

"  That's  no  explanation  at  all.  What  am  I 
to  say  to  Lady  Dovvnes  ?  What  am  I  to " 

"  You  can  tell  her  that  I  don't  feel  well,  if 
you  like.  Nellie  ran  away  with  me  this  morn- 
ing, and  she'll  think  it's  that." 

"  Nellie  ran  away  with  you !  Is  that 
the " 

"  No,  it  isn't  the  reason.  I  was  frightened  a 
little,  but  that's  all.  I'm  all  right  again  now. 
But  I  can't  stay  and  I  won't  stay.  If  you  are 
coming  with  me  I'll  pack  your  things  for 
you." 

Mrs.  Wayne  went  into  her  own  room  with- 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  259 

out  replying.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  an  illumi- 
nation. After  the  runaway,  Sir  Hubert,  in  the 
agitation  of  the  moment,  had  proposed  to 
Dorothea  and  Dorothea  had  refused  him.  She 
had  an  anguished  desire  to  share  this  revelation 
with  Mrs.  Follett  Ladd,  and  she  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  listening  intently  for  Mrs. 
Ladd's  footsteps  in  the  hall.  If  the  Misses 
Marbury  were  only  with  her !  They  would 
throw  on  this  complication  the  fine  light  of 
their  intelligence.  Even  Annetta  Griffin  would 
be  sympathetic,  in  spite  of  her  persistent  fond- 
ness for  taking  Dorothea's  part.  When,  finally, 
Mrs.  Ladd's  brisk  step  echoed  along  the  corri- 
dor, Mrs.  Wayne  opened  the  door,  and  inter- 
cepted her.  Mrs.  Ladd  would  have  entered 
Queen  Elizabeth's  chamber  if  her  friend 
hadn't  made  a  sign  that  the  conference  must 
be  elsewhere. 

For  an  hour  the  two  ladies  were  closeted 
in  Mrs.  Ladd's  room.  When  Mrs.  Wayne 
emerged,  her  face  wore  a  look  of  chastened  suf- 
fering, exalted  by  hope.  The  social  leader  had 
manifested  no  surprise  on  hearing  that  Doro- 
thea was  bent  on  leaving  Broadoaks  at  once, 
but  she  had  not  offered  an  explanation  of  the 
girl's  conduct.  She  did  suggest,  however,  that 


260  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Sir  Hubert  would  probably  pursue  Dorothea 
to  London,  and  this  lent  Mrs.  Wayne  a  moral 
support  that  enabled  her  to  endure  the  sacri- 
fice of  cutting  short  her  visit.  She  agreed 
that  it  was  well  for  the  girl  to  be  coy,  and 
Mrs.  Ladd's  reasoning  made  her  secretly  proud 
of  her  daughter. 

On  returning  to  her  room  she  found  Doro- 
thea collecting  her  things  for  their  departure. 
She  made  no  remonstrance  and  she  sat  on  the 
bed. 

"  Has  Sir  Hubert  been  proposing  to  you  ?  " 
she  said. 

Dorothea's  face  turned  scarlet. 

"Proposing  to  me?"  she  repeated,  uncon- 
sciously imitating  her  mother's  method  of  par- 
rying an  attack. 

"Yes — proposing  to  you,"  Mrs.  Wayne  in- 
sisted irritably.  "  Don't  you  suppose  I  know 
that  he's  in  love  with  you  ?  Any  one  could  see 
that  from  the  way  he  looks  at  you,  and  from 
the  way  he's  acted  ever  since  you've  been 
here." 

"  You  are  quite  mistaken,  mother.  He's  not 
in  love  with  me  and  I'm  not  in  love  with  him. 
And  as  for  his  proposing  to  me,  that  is  ab- 
surd." 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  26l 

Mrs.  Wayne's  spirits  came  very  near  sinking- 
again,  but  the  thought  of  Mrs.  Ladd's  logic 
buoyed  them  up ;  Dorothea's  remarks  were 
merely  another  instance  of  her  maidenly  modesty. 
It  was  quite  possible  that  Sir  Hubert  had  not 
proposed  in  words  ;  indeed,  now  that  she  had 
time  to  think  the  matter  over,  she  felt  sure  that 
there  had  been  no  formal  declaration  ;  he  had 
probably  given  her  a  sudden  caress  which  she 
had  resented ;  at  this  moment,  her  daughter 
must  be  experiencing  the  conflicting  emotions 
of  fear  and  joy,  of  exaltation  and  despair  that 
accompany  the  awakening  of  love.  The  situa- 
tion was  romantic,  intense,  dramatic.  Mrs. 
Wayne  would  have  given  a  year  of  her  life 
for  the  privilege  of  talking  it  over  with  An- 
netta  Griffin.  How  many  times  Annetta  Grif- 
fin had  told  her  that  Dorothea  had  a  great 
capacity  for  affection  ! 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  you  can't  go  down 
to  luncheon.  I've  asked  Mrs.  Ladd  to  say 
you're  ill.  It's  the  only  thing  to  be  done  under 
the  circumstances." 

Dorothea  had  not  realized  that  her  mother 
would  take  her  literally,  and  oblige  her  to  pose 
as  an  invalid  ;  she  saw,  however,  that  the  merest 
courtesy  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  offer  some 


262  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

plausible  excuse  to  her  hostess  for  her  sud- 
den departure.  A  few  minutes  later  Lady 
Downes  appeared  at  the  door  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's chamber  and  Dorothea  was  obliged  to 
steal  into  her  own  room.  She  could  hear  her 
mother  explaining  that  Dorothea  was  feeling 
just  a  little  better,  but  not  well  enough  to  leave 
her  room  for  the  present ;  she  had  been  more 
shaken  by  the  accident  than  she  had  at  first 
imagined.  How  one  lie  entailed  another !  Doro- 
thea thought.  Before  she  could  escape  from 
Broadoaks  she  would  be  forced  to  say  and  act 
a  dozen  untruths.  When  luncheon  was  brought 
to  her — the  luncheon  of  an  invalid,  a  thin  broth, 
with  toast  and  a  bit  of  chicken — she  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  humour  of  the  situation.  She 
ate  it  all  at  the  risk  of  betraying  the  fraud,  and 
she  could  have  eaten  as  much  again ;  but  she 
didn't  dare  ask  for  more.  Since  her  early  break- 
fast at  the  inn  she  had  acquired  a  large  appetite. 
At  two  o'clock  she  finished  packing.  The 
train  left  Penley  for  London  at  four,  and  the  car- 
riage would  take  them  from  Broadoaks  a  little 
before  three.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that 
she  hadn't  sent  Wood  word  to  prepare  dinner ; 
so  she  called  one  of  the  maids  and  sent  him  a 
telegram.  A  few  minutes  later  she  found  her 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  263 

hostess  in  the  drawing  room  with  her  mother 
and  Mrs.  Ladd,  and  she  received  a  commiser- 
ating greeting. 

"  I  was  afraid  you'd  feel  the  effects  of  it, 
dear.  One  always  does  after  the  first  excite- 
ment is  over.  Do  sit  down  here.  How  pale 
you  are!  You  must  have  had  a  very  great 
shock." 

Lady  Downes  went  on  to  explain  that  she 
wouldn't  urge  Miss  Wayne  to  change  her  mind 
about  leaving  Broadoaks ;  she  had  already 
urged  her  mother  to  no  purpose.  She  had 
promised  herself,  however,  the  pleasure  of  hav- 
ing them  with  her  again  before  they  returned 
to  America,  perhaps  when  they  came  back  to. 
London  from  Scotland.  Mrs.  Wayne  had  told 
her  all  about  the  Scotland  plans. 

The  three  men  presently  entered  the  draw- 
ing room  and  added  their  sympathy  and  regrets 
at  Dorothea's  departure.  Sir  Hubert  seemed 
to  be  greatly  distressed  by  her  illness. 

Mrs.  Ladd's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  and 
once  she  fancied  that  she  saw  the  social  leader 
glance  contemptuously  at  Harrington  Boyd. 
Follett  Ladd  lapsed  into  a  chair  in  the  corner, 
and  appeared  to  be  even  more  sullen  than  usual. 
The  conversation  flagged ;  every  one  seemed 


264  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

constrained,  and  Lady  Dovvnes,  in  spite  of  her 
aplomb,  was  flustered.  There  was  a  visible  relief 
among  the  ladies  when  Sir  Hubert  asked  Doro- 
thea if  she  wouldn't  go  over  to  the  stables  and 
receive  a  formal  apology  from  Nellie  for  her 
conduct  of  the  morning.  Dorothea  flushed  as 
she  rose  to  accept  the  invitation,  and  Harring- 
ton Boyd  smiled  at  Mrs.  Ladd,  who  was  staring 
serenely  at  Mrs.  Wayne. 

Sir  Hubert  did  not  speak  until  they  had 
passed  the  rows  of  grinning  statuary  in  the  gar- 
den, and  entered  the  path  under  the  trees  that 
led  to  the  stables.  Then  he  said,  with  the 
English  upward  inflection  that  she  liked  to 
hear: 

"  I'm  uncommonly  sorry  you're  leaving,  Miss 
Wayne." 

"  Thank  you.  I'm  sorry,  too.  I've  enjoyed 
being  here  very  much." 

"  But  not  so  much  as  we've  enjoyed  having 
you — my  mother  and  I.  You've  brightened  us 
up  immensely." 

Dorothea  could  scarcely  keep  from  smiling. 
In  her  state  of  mind  at  that  moment  the  idea  of 
her  brightening  any  one  up  seemed  absurd. 

"  I  shall  miss  those  morning  rides,"  Sir  Hu- 
bert went  on  awkwardly. 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  265 

"  But  you'll  take  them  just  the  same,"  she 
said,  for  lack  of  something  better  to  say. 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  it'll  be  different.  I  shall  feel 
lonely,"  Sir  Hubert  laughed.  "  And  I  shall  hate 
to  think,"  he  added,  as  an  afterthought,  "  that 
on  our  last  ride  together  you  had  such  a  beastly 
accident.  But  we  did  have  a  rather  pleasant 
morning  of  it  afterward,  didn't  we  ?  Or,  rather, 
I  did.  I  sha'n't  forget  that  breakfast  at  the  inn. 
It " 

"  There's  one  thing  I  must  tell  you  before  I 
go,"  Dorothea  interrupted.  "  I  am  not — it  isn't 
true  that  I'm  ill  from  the  accident — I  just  said 
that  as  an  excuse.  I  am  perfectly  well ;  only  I 
feel  that  I  must  go.  That's  why  I " 

She  stopped,  her  words  becoming  entangled 
in  her  confusion.  Sir  Hubert  looked  at  her  in 
surprise  ;  he  could  not  believe  she  had  told  a 
lie  ;  he  felt  sure  there  must  be  a  misunderstand- 
ing somewhere.  While  he  was  trying  to  dis- 
cover it  Dorothea  regained  her  composure. 

"  1  wanted  to  tell  you  so  that  you  shouldn't 
blame  yourself.  The  runaway  was  nothing. 
An  hour  afterward  I  felt  as  well  as  I'd  been  be- 
fore it." 

"  But  why  are  you  going  away  then  ?  "  Sir 
Hubert  insisted. 


266  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

Dorothea  was  not  prepared  for  this  cross- 
questioning-  and  she  did  not  know  what  answer 
to  make.  For  a  moment  she  walked  on  with- 
out speaking.  Then,  "  I  am  going  because  I 
must,"  she  said.  "  I — I  can't  explain  to  you 
the  reason." 

He  had  fallen  a  step  behind  her  so  that 
she  might  have  the  whole  of  the  narrow 
path. 

"  Has  the  reason  anything  to  do  with  me  ? 
Have  I  —  have  I  done  anything  to  offend 
you  ?  " 

His  first  question  had  made  Dorothea  catch 
her  breath  ;  the  second  gave  her  so  much  re- 
lief, and  at  the  same  time  seemed  so  odd  to 
her,  that  she  laughed  out. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  don't  believe  you  could  do 
anything  to  offend  me,"  she  replied  without 
thinking. 

They  had  come  into  the  open  again  and  he 
walked  on  by  her  side  across  the  hill  toward 
the  stables. 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,  this  morning — perhaps 
you  thought — I — I  had  taken  a  liberty — asking 
you  to  take  breakfast  at  that  inn.  I  shouldn't 
have  done,  it,  perhaps,  if  you'd  been  an  English 
girl ;  but  I  knew  that  Americans  were  so  much 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  267 

more  sensible  about  that.  And  then — it  was 
such  a  pleasure  to  me  to  be  there  with  you. 
I  hope  you  didn't  mind  if  I  showed  that  too 
much ;  but  I  really  felt  so  relieved  when  it 
turned  out — when  I  knew  you  were  safe,  you 
know.  Till  that  happened  I  didn't — I  didn't 
realize  how  much  I  cared  for  you." 

Dorothea's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  grass ; 
her  face  was  burning.  She  was  blaming  her- 
self for  having  come  out  with  him,  for  not 
having  avoided  this  scene  ;  but  his  words  gave 
her  a  strange  sense  of  elation.  She  made  an 
effort  to  keep  back  this  feeling,  however,  and 
she  waited  almost  breathlessly  for  him  to 
speak  again. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  loved  you 
this  morning,"  he  went  on.  "  I  think  I  have 
loved  you  ever  since  that  first  night  I  met 
you  at  Mrs.  Ladd's.  And  to-day  when — this 
morning,  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  any  harm 
came  to  you  it  would  be  the  worst  thing  that 
could  happen  to  me.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that 
then,  but  I  was  afraid  that  might  be  taking  an 
unfair  advantage  of  you.  Perhaps  I  ought 
not  to  tell  you  now.  I  haven't  any  reason  to 
think  you  could  care  for  me.  But  before  you 
go  I  want  you  to  know  about  it,  and  ask  you 


268  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

to  be  ray  wife.  Of  course,  I  don't  expect  you 
to  promise  now.  I'm  willing  to " 

Dorothea  knew  that  he  was  going  on  with 
his  talk  to  hide  his  embarrassment ;  but  she 
could  not  find  the  right  words  with  which 
to  stop  him.  Now,  however,  she  felt  that  she 
must  speak. 

"  I  can't  promise,"  she  cried  quickly.  "  I 
am  sorry — I'm  sorry  you've  said  this  to  me. 
I  do  respect  you — I  think  you  are — I  cant 

promise "  she  broke  down  helplessly.  "  Oh, 

if  you  knew  all  about  me,"  she  went  on  a  mo- 
ment later,  "  you  wouldn't  have  any  respect 
for  me." 

"  I  should  consider  myself  very  lucky  if  I 
could  take  you  as  you  are,"  he  said,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "  Won't  you  leave  it  undecided 
for  a  while  ?  I'm  not  conceited  enough  to 
think  that  I  can  make  you  care  for  me  in  the 
short  time  you've  known  me.  Perhaps  after 
you  go  back  to  America  you'll  let  me  come 
to  see  you  there.  I've  wanted  to  go  for  a 
long  time,  you  know.  I  don't  want  you  to 
commit  yourself  to  anything  or  to  give  me  any 
encouragement — 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,"  Dorothea  interrupted. 
"  It  would  be  doing  you  a  great  wrong.  You 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  269 

can  come  to  America  if  you  want  to,  of  course ; 
but  you  must  never  think  there  can  be  any- 
thing between  us.  That  is  impossible." 

"  Then  you — you  think  you  couldn't  care 
for  me  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  touching  sim- 
plicity. 

"  I  never  could  marry  you,"  Dorothea  re- 
plied firmly,  keeping-  her  head  away  from  him. 
"  If  you  come  to  America,  it  would  be  better 
for  us  both  not  to  see  each  other  there." 

She  did  not  dare  to  glance  at  Sir  Hubert's 
face.  He  made  no  reply,  and  they  walked  on 
in  silence.  They  were  within  a  few  minutes' 
walk  of  the  stables,  but  Dorothea  suddenly  de- 
cided that  she  must  turn  back.  She  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  going  in  there  now.  If 
she  went  to  bid  Nellie  good-bye  she  knew  that 
she  would  make  herself  ridiculous  by  bursting 
into  tears.  She  would  have  liked  to  gather  her 
skirts  round  her  and  run  away  from  Sir  Hu- 
bert ;  his  presence  tortured  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  feel  equal  to  going  on 
any  farther,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  we'd  better 
turn  back." 

"  If  you  are  tired  I'll  drive  you  back,"  he 
said,  with  a  quick  look  of  alarm  at  her  pale 
face. 

18 


2~o  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  No,  I'd  rather  walk,"  she  replied  nerv- 
ously. 

On  the  way  to  the  house  they  scarcely 
spoke.  Dorothea  was  reminded  of  her  walk 
with  Harrington  Boyd  on  that  last  night  at 
Hull,  a  year  before.  She  had  been  mortified 
then  ;  now  she  had  a  feeling  of  hopeless  misery, 
of  impotent  rebellion  against  fate.  It  was  bad 
enough  that  she  should  herself  have  to  suffer — 
it  was  shameful  that  she  should  bring  suffering 
on  others.  Yet  at  the  moment  all  her  pity 
was  for  herself.  She  longed  to  go  away  to 
some  place  where  she  could  give  herself  up 
to  her  misery.  This,  however,  was  just  what  she 
couldn't  do  ;  she  would  have  to  wear  her  mask 
to  the  end  of  her  visit.  When  she  returned 
to  the  drawing  room  at  Broadoaks  she  seemed 
as  impassive  as  usual. 


XIX. 

ON  their  way  to  London  Dorothea  and  her 
mother  had  to  endure  the  society  of  three 
elderly  ladies  and  a  fat  man ;  so  their  conversa- 
tion was  restrained.  It  was  after  six  o'clock 
when  they  reached  the  city.  At  the  lodgings 
in  Mandeville  Place  they  found  the  curtains  of 
the  drawing  room  drawn,  the  room  bright  with 
lamps  and  lighted  candles,  the  table  shining 
with  its  damask  cloth  and  glass.  Wood  dis- 
played an  obsequious  pleasure  at  being  able  to 
serve  them  again,  and  his  wife  emerged  from 
the  kitchen  to  greet  them.  During  the  meal 
Mrs.  Wayne  had  very  little  to  say  ;  from  her 
manner,  however,  Dorothea  saw  that  she  was 
keeping  something  in  reserve.  For  this  she 
had  prepared  herself;  she  had  decided  to  tell 
the  whole  truth  at  any  cost;  it  would  clear  the 
ground,  and  enable  her  to  begin  a  new  chapter 
in  her  life.  Moreover,  she  was  disgusted  with 
lying ;  during  the  day  she  had  told  lies  enough 
to  destroy  any  one's  self-respect. 

271 


272  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

As  soon  as  the  table  was  cleared  and  Wood 
left  the  room  Mrs.  Wayne  spoke  up. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  tell  me  now  what  happened  to- 
day," she  said,  with  an  unusual  authority  of  tone. 

"  Do  you  mean  why  I  wanted  to  leave 
Broadoaks?"  Dorothea  asked  quietly. 

"  Yes  ;  why  you  changed  your  mind  all  of  a 
sudden.  What  made  you  do  it?" 

Dorothea  repeated  her  conversation  of  the 
morning  with  Harrington  Boyd.  She  expected 
her  mother  to  be  confounded  by  it;  instead, 
however,  the  widow  became  enraged. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  cried,  "  that  you 
would  allow  yourself  to  care  what  that  creature 
said  ?  Why,  he  was  jealous  because  Sir  Hubert 
was  paying  you  attention.  Couldn't  you  see 
that?  Couldn't  you  see  that  he  said  those 
things  out  of  spite?  I  didn't  believe  you  could 
be  such  a  ninny.  Everybody  saw  it — even  Lady 
Downes !  " 

Dorothea  was  so  unprepared  for  this  attack 
that  she  could  not  formulate  a  reply.  Besides, 
she  was  appalled  by  her  mother's  complete  in- 
difference to  the  charges  Harrington  Boyd  had 
brought  against  her.  She  turned  away,  and 
would  have  ended  the  conversation  if  her 
mother  hadn't  broken  out  again. 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  273 

"  It  will  be  a  judgment  on  you  if  you  lose 
him.  I  never  saw  any  one  so  reckless  as  you 
are  !  Just  for  the  sake  of  a  little  pique  you  are 
risking-  the  chance  of  a  lifetime." 

"  If  you  are  referring  to  Sir  Hubert,  mother, 
you  are  quite  mistaken.  You  might  as  well  put 
out  of  your  mind,  once  for  all,  any  thought  of 
my  marrying  him." 

Her  mother's  eyes  blazed. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  cried. 

"  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say,  mother." 

Mrs.  Wayne  bent  forward  in  her  seat.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say,"  she  said  slowly,  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  horror  in  her  tone — "  do  you  mean  to 
say  you've  refused  him  ?  " 

"  He  asked  me  to  be  his  wife  this  afternoon, 
and  I  told  him  that  I  couldn't  marry  him  under 
any  circumstances." 

Mrs.  Wayne  jumped  to  her  feet.  Her  face 
was  pale,  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"  Oh,  you  fool,  you  fool !  "  she  cried. 

Dorothea  wondered  why  she  did  not  become 
angry.  Her  mother's  reproaches  failed  to  ex- 
cite her  in  the  least ;  she  seemed  to  have  lost 
spirit.  She  sat  without  speaking  as  the  thin 
figure  confronted  her. 

"  How  can  you  look  me  in  the  face  ?    Do  you 


274  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

suppose  I  don't  know  why  you've  done  this? 
I  saw  the  letter  you  got  from  Aleck  French  this 
morning  on  your  dressing  table.  So  you  had  to 
come  down  here  and  meet  him  before  his  wife 
was  cold  in  her  coffin  !  To  think  that  1  should 
have  brought  up  such  a  daughter!"  she  sobbed. 
"  I  thought  I  should  have  some  comfort  out  of 
you  in  my  old  age.  You'll  break  my  heart ! 
You've  broken  it  already  !  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  walked 
out  of  the  room,  sobbing  convulsively.  Doro- 
thea heard  her  throw  herself  on  her  bed  and 
give  herself  up  to  a  fit  of  weeping.  Dorothea 
herself  felt  numb  ;  her  body  ached.  These  out- 
breaks of  her  mother's,  though  common  enough 
in  her  life,  always  terrified  her.  For  several 
moments  she  was  unable  to  move ;  then  she 
rose  stiffly  from  her  seat  and  closed  the  door 
that  her  mother  had  left  open.  The  sobbing 
in  the  next  room  was  subsiding;  after  it  her 
mother  would  fall  asleep. 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  Dorothea  walked 
up  and  down  the  apartment,  thinking  of  the 
hideous  failure  her  European  visit  had  been. 
She  wondered  if  her  whole  life  were  going 
to  be  a  tragedy.  Then  she  tried  to  shake 
off  such  morbid  thoughts.  Her  life,  she  told 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


275 


herself,  was  quite  as  happy  as  most  lives. 
She  had  had  disappointments :  so  had  every 
one ;  several  of  her  friends  had  had  greater 
disappointments.  She  loved  life ;  she  was  in- 
terested in  her  work ;  she  did  not  have  the 
thousand  and  one  worries  of  people  of  small 
means ;  she  could  enjoy  many  luxuries  that 
most  people  were  denied.  No,  on  the  whole 
she  was  happy,  quite  happy.  Then  she  thought 
of  Sir  Hubert  Downes,  and  she  came  very  near 
softening.  She  tried  to  delude  herself  into 
thinking  that  her  regret  was  wholly  for  him. 
She  had  been  culpable  in  going  there  ;  she  had 
never  seriously  encouraged  him  ;  yet  she  had 
done  him  a  great  wrong. 

When  her  mother's  sobs  had  ceased  Doro- 
thea sat  at  her  desk.  She  wished  that  she 
were  at  home  in  Oswego ;  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  the  victim  of  a  hideous  conspiracy. 
Then  she  blamed  herself  for  having  allowed 
people  to  interfere  with  her,  for  not  having 
asserted  her  rights.  She  had  been  weak,  the 
most  pitiable  of  cowards.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  longed  for  some  one  to  con- 
fide in. 

It  was  strange  that  at  this  moment  she 
should  have  thought  of  Aleck  French ;  he 


276  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

was  the  last  person  in  the  world  that  she 
could  tell  of  her  experiences  at  Broadoaks. 
Yet  she  was  more  eager  to  see  him  now 
than  she  had  ever  been  ;  with  him  she  al- 
ways felt  at  ease ;  he  seemed  to  understand 
her,  to  know  when  to  let  her  alone.  She 
recalled  long  walks  they  had  taken  together 
in  Oswego  on  cold  autumn  afternoons  when 
the  leaves  were  turning  to  red  and  yellow, 
and  for  miles  they  had  scarcely  spoken. 
With  shame  she  remembered  how  she  had 
secretly  resented  his  crudeness.  Now  she  was 
glad  he  hadn't  changed,  glad  he  was  what  he 
was,  big  and  homely,  glad  even  that  he  had 
freckles  on  his  hands.  The  days  came  back  to 
her  when  she  used  to  go  to  see  his  father,  who 
was  secretly  proud  of  Aleck,  in  spite  of  his  op- 
position to  Aleck's  career,  and  who  liked  to 
make  foolish  jokes  about  Aleck's  devotion  to 
her.  She  realized  bitterly  her  folly  in  having 
allowed  even  for  so  short  a  time  Harrington 
Boyd's  fine  manner  to  weigh  against  Aleck's 
sturdy  honesty.  Even  Aleck's  suffering  of  the 
past  year  glorified  him  in  her  mind.  Like  him, 
many  men  had  done  wrong,  but  few  had  ac- 
cepted the  consequences  so  bravely  !  His  let- 
ter to  her  announcing  his  marriage  was  the 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


277 


best  testimony  he  could  have  given  of  his 
almost  childlike  simplicity ;  he  had  none  of 
the  guile  that  had  brought  so  much  vexation 
into  her  own  life.  She  forgot  his  duplicity 
with  her  before  his  marriage,  or  rather  she 
considered  that  merely  as  a  part  of  the  fault 
he  had  already  atoned  for. 

He  was  the  only  friend  she  had  in  Lon- 
don, and  to  him  she  turned  in  her  loneliness 
and  misery.  She  took  from  her  desk  a  sheet 
of  paper  and  wrote  him  a  hasty  note,  tell- 
ing of  her  visit  at  Broadoaks  and  of  her 
return  to  London,  ending  with  a  promise  to 
meet  him  at  the  National  Gallery  the  next 
afternoon  if  her  mother  were  well  enough  to 
be  left  alone.  She  added  this  condition  on 
an  impulse;  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that 
her  mother,  after  the  excitement  of  weeks  of 
feverish  activity,  would  probably  have  one  of 
her  reactions.  When  the  reaction  did  come 
it  would  be  violent. 

Her  fear  proved  prophetic,  for  the  next 
morning  Mrs.  Wayne  was  in  a  raging  fever. 
Dorothea  became  so  alarmed  that  she  sent 
Wood  out  for  the  physician  who  had  at- 
tended the  Spanish  lodger  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore. He  was  a  portly  figure  of  fifty  with 


278  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

a  manner  of  alarming  seriousness.  After  con- 
ferring with  the  invalid,  he  solemnly  asked 
Dorothea  if  her  mother  had  had  a  shock ; 
then  Dorothea  proceeded  to  give  a  history 
of  her  mother's  ailments  and  the  doctor 
thoughtfully  fingered  his  eyeglasses.  On 
Dorothea's  venturing  to  suggest  that  her 
mother  had  tired  herself  out  and  needed  a 
rest,  he  lifted  his  eyes  with  a  deprecating 
dubiousness.  She  conceived  a  great  dislike 
for  him  and  hoped  that  he  wouldn't  come 
again ;  but  he  did  come  the  next  day,  and 
he  came  every  other  day  for  a  week.  Dur- 
ing this  time  Dorothea  did  not  once  leave 
the  lodgings,  save  for  a  short  walk  late  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  fifth  day.  She  had  written 
to  Aleck  French  of  her  mother's  illness  and 
promised  to  meet  him  when  she  could. 

From  the  first  day  Mrs.  Wayne  sank  into 
abject  weakness  and  melancholy ;  her  only  in- 
terest in  life  centred  in  the  question  whether 
,  there  were  any  mail.  This  Dorothea  inter- 
preted as  a  desire  for  news  from  Mrs.  Fol- 
lett  Ladd. 

When  several  days  had  passed  and  no  news 
was  received,  Mrs.  Wayne's  melancholy  deep- 
ened into  nostalgia  and  Dorothea  found  herself 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  279 

growing  cynical.  Mrs.  Ladd  had  evidently 
lost  interest  in  her  friends  from  Osvvego. 
Dorothea  spoke  to  the  doctor  about  her 
mother's  homesickness  and  asked  if  it  wouldn't 
be  best  for  her  to  be  taken  on  board  the 
steamer.  The  doctor  hesitated,  then  he  con- 
scientiously announced  that  the  voyage  and 
the  sight  of  familiar  places  and  faces  would 
probably  be  beneficial  to  the  sufferer.  So 
Dorothea  wrote  for  berths  on  the  ship  that 
sailed  from  Southampton  the  following  Tues- 
day. 

If  she  had  examined  her  feelings  she  might 
have  discovered  that  she  herself,  as  well  as  her 
mother,  was  suffering  from  a  disappointment ; 
but  at  this  time  self-examination  was  just  what 
she  was  careful  to  avoid.  Sir  Hubert  was  not  a 
man  to  force  himself  on  any  one ;  her  answer 
had  been  final,  and  he  had  sense  and  discretion 
enough  to  appreciate  the  fact.  Two  days  be- 
fore the  day  set  for  her  departure  she  wrote  to 
Aleck  French  that  she  would  meet  him  at  the 
National  Gallery  on  Monday  afternoon  at  three 
o'clock ;  now  that  her  mother  was  about  to  go 
home,  she  seemed  to  be  improving  and  could  be 
safely  left  alone. 

Dorothea  found  French  in  the  columned  por- 


2go  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

tico  of  the  Gallery ;  he  explained  that  he  had 
been  through  all  the  rooms  looking  for  her. 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  take  a  drive  than  go 
up  there  ?  "  he  said.  "  It's  a  pity  not  to  be  out 
such  a  fine  day  as  this." 

Dorothea  suggested  that  they  drive  toward 
Hampstead  and  then  walk ;  this  would  give 
them  a  chance  to  talk  things  over.  On  the  way 
in  the  cab  she  was  tempted  to  ask  him  about  his 
wife  ;  but  she  did  not,  and  he  had  nothing  to 
say  on  the  subject.  He  did  speak  casually  of 
Miss  Flagler,  whom  he  had  seen  several  times 
in  Paris.  Arthur  Roberts  had  told  him  that 
the  engagement  was  not  to  be  announced  till 
after  their  return  to  New  York ;  Roberts  had 
been  offered  a  position  at  the  League ;  so  they 
would  be  sure  of  an  income. 

"  It's  been  a  rather  bad  end  to  your  summer, 
hasn't  it  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  has  all  been  a  disappointment,  Aleck.  I 
feel  now  as  if  I  never  wanted  to  see  Europe 
again.  It's  only  another  ideal  shattered." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "  That  doesn't 
sound  like  you,  Dorothea." 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  changed  since  I  came  over 
here,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

When    they    reached    Hampstead     French 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  28l 

stopped  the  hansom  and  they  walked  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  Heath. 

"  So  you're  really  going  to-morrow  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you." 

For  a  moment  Dorothea  was  silent.  Then 
she  said  : 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  go 
back?" 

He  turned  his  face  toward  hers.  "  No.  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  till  I  had  spoken  to 
you  about  it." 

She  felt  her  face  flushing. 

"  I  thought  you  had  decided  to  come." 

"  I  want  to  go — I  want  to  go  very  much — 
now  that  other  business  has  settled  itself.  I 
should  like  to  see  my  father  again.  I  should 
like  to  make  it  up  with  him." 

"  Yes,  you  ought  to  make  it  up  with  him," 
she  repeated  mechanically. 

To-day  he  seemed  to  her  bigger  and  cruder 
than  he  ever  had  been,  and  the  gentleness  of  his 
manner  with  her  contrasted  oddly  with  the 
roughness  of  his  looks.  He  reminded  her  of  a 
great  Newfoundland  dog,  especially  when  he 
looked  down  at  her  with  his  big  eyes. 


282  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

"  Father  was  always  fond  of  you,"  he  went 
on.  "  He  used  to  say  you  were  the  finest  girl  in 
Oswego.  I  believe  it  was  you  that  made  him 
send  me  over  here." 

Dorothea  walked  on  without  speaking. 

A  moment  later,  he  resumed  :  "  Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  say  what  I'm  going  to  say,  Doro- 
thea, but  I  just  want  you  to  know  that  I  care 
for  you  more  than  ever,  and  if  I  could  undo 
some  time  in  the  future  what  I've  done,  and  be 
what  I  used  to  be  to  you — I'd  do  it,  and  I'd 
consider  myself  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world. 
I  don't  ask  you  to  marry  me ;  I  haven't  any 
right  to  do  that.  But  I  think  I  shall  always 
love  you,  Dorothea — I  know  I  shall.  And  if 
you'll  let  me  go  back  home  and  try  to  wipe  out 
the  past,  I'll  do  my  best  to — to— 

Dorothea  was  holding  down  her  head  ;  so 
she  could  not  see  the  expression  of  regret  and 
yearning  in  his  face.  Before  speaking  she  tried 
to  formulate  what  she  had  to  say,  but  she  could 
not  collect  her  thoughts. 

"  If  you — if  you  ask  me  to — to  promise  any- 
thing," she  replied  incoherently,  "  Aleck— 

"  I  don't.  I  haven't  any  right  to  do  that.  If 
you  told  me  that  you  loved  some  one  else,  or 
hated  me,  or  didn't  want  me  to  be  where  you 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


283 


were,  I'd  stay  away,  I'd  stay  over  here — in  Lon- 
don or  Paris.  I  don't  think  I  could  bear  to  see 
you  in  love  with  any  one  else — or  married.  I'm 
not  man  enough  for  that.  But  if  you " 

She  looked  up  quickly  into  his  face. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  marry,  Aleck,  if 
you  mean  that,"  she  replied.  "  Perhaps  I  shall 
change  my  mind — many  women  say  that — but  I 
don't  think  I  shall.  I  think  you  ought  to  go 
home.  You  ought  to  go  home  to  your  father, 
and  you  ought  to  stay  at  home.  You  belong 
there.  We  shall  be  good  friends,  Aleck,  just  as 
we  used  to  be.  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to 
have  stayed  friends — just  friends,  I  mean? 
That  would  have  been  better  for  both  of  us,  it 
seems  to  me." 

He  turned  his  head  away  and  did  not  speak 
for  several  moments. 

"  I  know  you're  right,"  he  said,  about  my 
going  home.  And  I — I  don't  blame  you.  I 
think  I'll  probably  do  as  you  say.  At  any  rate, 
I'll  think  about  it." 

Then  they  talked  of  other  things,  chiefly 
about  his  work ;  he  outlined  plans  for  new  pic- 
tures that  he  had  in  mind.  Presently  they 
turned  and  walked  part  way  back  to  the  lodg- 
ings, and  then  took  a  hansom.  To  French's  re- 


284- 


THE   INTRIGUERS. 


quest  that  he  might  see  her  off  the  next  day, 
Dorothea  replied  that  her  mother  was  so  ill, 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  him  not  to  come. 
Although  a  rather  lame  reason,  it  satisfied  him, 
and  he  bade  her  good-bye,  saying  that  he  might 
see  her  in  Oswego  before  very  long. 


XX. 

ON  entering  the  hall  of  the  lodgings  Doro- 
thea was  surprised  to  hear  her  mother's  voice 
coming  from  the  drawing  room.  She  opened 
the  door  quickly,  and  her  heart  gave  a  wild 
jump ;  Sir  Hubert  Downes  was  standing 
there,  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  in- 
valid, who  had  changed  her  nightdress  for  one 
of  her  finest  gowns.  For  a  moment  there  was 
a  tableau.  On  seeing  Dorothea  Sir  Hubert  had 
risen  ;  now  he  stood  returning  the  look  of  min- 
gled surprise  and  pleasure  with  which  Doro- 
thea was  regarding  him.  It  was  Mrs.  Wayne 
who  broke  the  silence. 

"  Sir  Hubert  has  been  waiting  for  you  for 
more  than  an  hour." 

Dorothea  extended  her  hand,  and  he  seized 
it  with  a  fervour  that  made  her  face  burn. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Thank  you." 

He  stood  smiling,  and  waiting  for  her  to 
sit  down. 

19  885 


286  THE   INTRIGUERS. 

"  I  suppose  you're  surprised  to  find  me 
up  ? "  Mrs.  Wayne  went  on,  turning  to  her 
daughter.  She  displayed  a  restless  energy ; 
her  cheeks,  which  early  in  the  afternoon 
were  of  a  yellowish  pallor,  were  now  shot 
with  pink,  and  her  dull  eyes  shone.  "  But 
I  couldn't  let  Sir  Hubert  sit  here  all  alone. 
He  came  about  an  hour  after  you  left. 
We've  been  having  a  long  talk.  I've  just 
been  telling  him  he's  done  me  more  good 
than  all  the  doctors  in  creation  could  have 
done." 

Dorothea  had  taken  off  her  gloves  and  al- 
lowed her  wrap  to  fall  upon  the  couch. 

"  Here,  give  me  those  things,"  her  mother 
went  on,  extending  both  hands,  "  I'll  leave 
them  in  your  room.  Sir  Hubert  wants  to 
talk  with  you.  I  guess  he's  had  enough  of 
me  for  a  while.  Perhaps  " — she  added  at  the 
door — "  perhaps  you  can  persuade  him  to 
stay  fo.r  dinner.  He  wouldn't  promise  me. 
I  suppose  he  thought  you  might  not  come 
and  he'd  have  to  take  dinner  all  alone  with 
me." 

She  went  away  laughing  hysterically  at 
her  silly  joke  ;  she  seemed  almost  beside  her- 
self with  joy.  She  felt  that  she  was  about 


THE    INTRIGUERS.  28/ 

to  snatch  victory  from  the  jaws  of  defeat, 
and  the  prospect  intoxicated  her. 

Dorothea,  whose  heart  was  beating  violent- 
ly, closed  the  door,  left  half  open  ;  then, 
ashamed  of  having  closed  it,  she  had  an  impulse 
to  turn  back.  But  she  resisted,  and  took  the 
chair  that  her  mother  vacated.  She  hardly 
dared  to  look  Sir  Hubert  in  the  face ;  her 
chief  thought  was  to  control  herself,  to  keep 
her  voice  from  trembling.  But  the  silence  was 
so  long  that  she  lifted  her  eyes  at  last,  and 
tried  to  formulate  a  remark. 

"  I  hope  your  mother  is  very  well,"  she 
said. 

"  Yes,  thank  you — that  is—  "  he  stammered. 
Then  he  stopped  for  a  moment.  "  No,  the 
fact  is,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "  she  hasn't  been 
well  since  you  left.  She's  very  delicate,  you 
know,  though  she  doesn't  seem  so,  and  I  think 
your  little  accident  upset  her." 

"  I'm  very  sorry.  But  she  hasn't  been  ill, 
1  hope  ?  " 

"  Not  really  ;  only  a  bit  out  of  sorts." 

"And  the  Ladds — are  they  still  with  you?" 
Dorothea  asked,  to  keep  up  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  They  left  this   morning.     Boyd  left  three 


288  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

days  ago.  So  we're  quite  alone,  my  mother 
and  I." 

Another  silence  fell  upon  them.  Dorothea 
could  think  of  nothing  to  say.  Her  mind  ran 
over  a  series  of  irrelevant  topics.  At  last 
she  decided  that  it  would  be  safe  to  men- 
tion her  departure  the  next  day. 

"  I  suppose  my  mother  has  told  you  about 
our  leaving." 

"  Yes,  and  it  made  me  realize  how  lucky  I 
was  to  come  to-day.  I  might  have  missed 
you.  I  thought  you'd  be  here  for  some  time 
longer." 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  be  gathering 
himself  together  for  a  great  effort.  Then  he 
burst  out : 

"  I've  been  telling  your  mother  what  I 
came  for.  I've  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  to 

her,  and "  He  stopped  and  looked  into  her 

face.  "  It's  about  that  fellow,  Boyd,"  he 
went  on.  "  I  know  what  he  said  about  you, 
and  why  you  left  our  house  so  suddenly. 
And — I've — I've — come  to  tell  you  how  sorry 
I  am,  and  how  —  how  indignant  my  mother 
and  I  are  that  you  should  have  been  in- 
sulted under  our  roof.  If  you  could  have 
told  us — but,  of  course,  you  couldn't  do  that 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


289 


— but  if  we  could  have  known  about  it,  we 
should  have  protected  you  from  any  further 
annoyance." 

At   first    Dorothea    was  bewildered    by  his 
incoherence  ;  but  after  a  moment  she  gasped : 

"  Then  my  mother  has  told  you  !  " 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Ladd  who  first  told.  She  told 
my  mother  last  night.  My  poor  old  mother 
had  been  worrying  about  me ;  you  know  I 
haven't  any  secrets  from  her,  and  she  knew  how 
— how  cut  up  I'd  been  when  you — when  you 
told  me  that  you  couldn't  care  for  me  as  I  did 
for  you.  I  suppose  Mrs.  Ladd  saw  it  too,  she's 
so  keen.  At  any  rate,  last  night  Mrs.  Ladd  had 
a  long  talk  with  my  mother,  and  they  spoke 
about  you.  Mother  had  been  a  little  hurt  by— 
But  that  was  because  she  couldn't  understand, 
vou  know,  why  every  one  didn't  admire  me  as 
she  does.  I  suppose  all  mothers  are  like  that. 
Then  Mrs.  Ladd  spoke  up  for  you,  and  she  told 
us  what  Boyd  said  about  you  on  the  veranda  of 
the  studio.  This  morning  my  mother  told  me, 
and  then  I  took  the  train  for  London  and  came 
here." 

He  looked   confused  after  his  long  speech, 
and  sat  gazing  in  Dorothea's  face. 

"  I'm   sorry  you've  come  so  far  to  tell  me 


290  THE    INTRIGUERS. 

this,"  said  Dorothea.  "  You  weren't  in  any  way 
to  blame,  and,  of  course,  I've  never  blamed  you 
for  a  moment." 

"  But  you  ran  away  from  us  ;  you  treated  us 
as  if  you  thought  we'd  believe  that  man's  insin- 
uations. You  see,  I've  found  out  all  about  it. 
Your  mother  has  told  me  what  Mrs.  Ladd  didn't 
tell,"  he  added,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  I  did  what  I  had  to  do,  what  any  one  with 
the  least  self-respect  would  have  done  in  my 
place." 

"But  you  might  have  trusted  us  more,"  he 
said  reproachfully. 

"  How  did  Mrs.  Ladd  know  ? "  Dorothea 
asked.  "  It  isn't  possible  that  Mr.  Boyd  told 
her." 

For  a  moment,  Sir  Hubert  looked  confused 
again. 

"  That  was  one  reason  why  she  hadn't  spoken 
before.  She  felt  as  if  it  would  be  dishonourable. 
She  overheard  accidentally." 

"  Then  she  was  in  the  studio  at  the  time," 
said  Dorothea.  "  I  remember  that  I  thought  I 
heard  a  noise  there." 

"She  didn't  have  time  to  show  herself  before 
it  was  all  over.  Of  course,  she  couldn't  have 
helped  hearing,  and  it  was  only — only  what  my 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


29! 


mother  said  to  her  that  made  her  .see  that  she 
ought  to  tell.  In  fact,  she  asked  my  mother  if  I 
hadn't  proposed  to  you,  and  when  my  mother 
said  I  had,  she  couldn't  keep  silent  any  longer." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Dorothea  smiled  at  Sir 
Hubert's  earnestness  in  trying  not  to  incrimi- 
nate any  one  save  the  real  culprit.  . 

"  It's  all  over  now,"  she  said. 

Sir  Hubert's  eyes  flashed.  "  I  should  like 
nothing  better  than  to  give  that  fellow  a  sound 
thrashing." 

"  The  best  thing  to  do  is  to  forget  all  about 
it,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  It  made  me  wonder,"  he  went  on  con- 
fusedly ;  "in  fact,  that's  what  I  really  came  here 
for — to  find  out  if  that  was  why  you  discouraged 
me  so.  Of  course,  I  have  no  reason  to  think 
you  really  could  care  for  me,  but  if  it  hadn't 
happened  you  might  perhaps  have  given  me  a 
chance." 

"  I  couldn't  do  anything  except  what  I  did 
do  under  the  circumstances,"  Dorothea  replied, 
her  face  flaming.  "  I  should  have  been  the 
most  contemptible  creature  in  the  world  if  I 
had." 

"  Because  that  man  said  those  things  about 
you?" 


292 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


"  No,  not  that.  But  because  he  made  me 
realize  that  they  were  true." 

"  True  ?  "  Sir  Hubert  gasped. 

"  Yes,  true — that  is,  true  enough  to  make  me 
despise  myself  for  going  to  Broadoaks,  for  ac- 
cepting your  kindness  when,  if  I  had  allowed 
myself  to  think,  I  should  have  known  why  Mrs. 
Ladd  had  introduced  me  to  you,  and  why  she 
had  persuaded  your  mother  to  invite  me.  Oh, 
I  don't  blame  her.  She  simply  has  a  weakness 
for  managing " 

"  But  my  mother  invited  you  of  her  own 
accord,"  Sir  Hubert  interrupted,  with  a  look  of 
bewilderment  and  pain  in  his  eyes.  "  No,  not 
exactly  that.  She  invited  you  because  I  asked 
her  to." 

"You  asked  her  to?" 

"Yes.  Mrs.  Ladd  had  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  it.  Even  if  she  had  I  should  be  the  last 
person  to  blame  her." 

"  But  I  thought  when  I  went  there — oh,  I 
ought  not  to  have  gone.  I  went  because  I  knew 
it  would  please  my  mother." 

"  Then  you  didn't  want  to  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did  want  to  come,  too,"  she  acknowl- 
edged, seeing  how  rude  her  remark  had  been. 
"  I  didn't  mean  that — what  you  think.  I  allowed 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  293 

myself  to  drift.  It  was  only  after  Mr.  Boyd  said 
those  things  about  me  that  I  understood  what  I 
had  done,  what  an  odious  position  I  had  placed 
myself  in." 

"  But  that  was  the  merest  fancy.  It's  only 
because  you're  so  sensitive  that  you've  accused 
yourself." 

Tears  had  come  into  her  eyes  and  she  turned 
her  head  away  to  hide  them. 

"  You're  very  generous,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  generous  to  myself,"  he  replied,  with  a 
smile.  "  But  I'm  glad  you  think  I'm  generous. 
That  gives  me  courage  to  ask  you — if  what  hap- 
pened the  day  you  left  us  had  anything  to  do 
with  your  saying  you  never  could  care  for 
me." 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  reply.  Then  she 
said  : 

"  Yes ;  that  was  one  of  the  reasons — if — if 
that  was  what  I  said." 

She  could  not  see  the  light  that  leaped  into 
his  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  over  the  others  some 
day.  Won't  you  tell  me  what  they  are  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  my  own  mind.  I  felt  con- 
fused and  ashamed.  I  was  afraid  of  doing  any- 
thing that  might  be  considered  underhanded  or 


294 


THE    INTRIGUERS. 


— or  indelicate — anything  I  might  be  sorry  for 
afterward." 

"  But  if  that's  all,  surely  now,  after  what  I've 
said,  you  can't  feel  like  that.  You  know,  I  didn't 
expect  very  much.  I  only  wanted  you  to  know 
how  much  I  loved  you,  and  I  thought  that  per- 
haps some  time  you  might  learn  to  care  for  me. 
But,  of  course,  if  there's  some  one  else — 

"  There's  no  one  else." 

"  Of  course,  you  hardly  know  me  now,"  he 
stammered. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  said  Dorothea,  with  a 
smile. 

"  I  know  that  I  love  you,"  he  replied. 
"  That's  enough." 

A  moment  later  he  went  on: 

"  And  will  you  let  me  come  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  We  are  leaving  for  America  to-morrow," 
Dorothea  repeated. 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  can  leave  for  America, 
too.  I  think  I've  told  you  that  I've  been  on  the 
point  of  going  for  years.  I  can't  go  to-morrow. 
I  shouldn't  like  to  leave  my  mother  so  suddenly. 
Then,  if  I  wait  a  week  or  two,  perhaps  I  shall 
be  able  to  persuade  her  to  come  with  me.  Will 
you  let  me  come  ?  " 

His  deep  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  and  she 


THE   INTRIGUERS.  295 

felt  a  thrill  of  happiness  that  she  had  never 
known.  It  was  a  long  time  before  she  could 
trust  herself  to  speak. 

"  Yes,  you  may  come,"  she  said,  at  last. 

He  extended  his  hand  impulsively,  and  held 
hers  for  a  moment. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he. 

She  rose  and  started  for  the  door. 

11  Shall  I  tell  mother  you  are  going  to  stay 
for  dinner  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  me  to,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

For  a  few  moments  she  left  him.  When  she 
returned  he  thought  she  had  been  crying.  But 
there  were  no  tears  in  Mrs.  Wayne's  eyes.  As 
she  entered  the  room  she  felt  as  if  she  were  re- 
ceiving her  reward  for  years  of  maternal  devo- 
tion. 


THE   END. 


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86.  Love  or  Money.    By  KATHARINE  LEE. 

87.  Not  All  in  Vain.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

88.  It  Happened  Yesterday.    By  FREDERICK  MARSHALL. 

89.  My  Guardian.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

90.  The  Story  of  Philip  Methuen.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NEEDELL. 

91.  Amethyst :  The  Story  of  a  Beauty.    By  CHP.ISTABEL  R.  COLEKIDGE. 
S2.  Don  Braulio.    By  JUAN  VALERA.    Translated  by  CI.AHA  BELL. 

93.  The  Chronicles  of  Mr.  Bill  Williams.    By  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON. 

94.  A  Queen  of  Curds  and  Cream.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

95.  "  La  Bella  "  and  Others.    By  EGEBTON  CASTLK. 

96.  "  December  Hoses."    By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PRAED. 
87.  Jean  de  Kerdren .    By  JEANNE  SCHULTZ. 

98.  EtelTca's  VOID.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

99.  Crosscurrents.    By  MARY  A.  DICKENS. 

100.  IRs  Life's  Magnet.    By  THEODORA  ELMPLIE. 

101.  Passing  the  Lorn  of  Women.    By  Mrs.  J.  II.  NEEDELL. 

102.  In  Old  St.  Stephen's.    By  JEANIE  DBAKE. 

103.  The  Berkeleys  and  their  Neighbors.    By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL. 

104.  Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student.    By  GUAIIAM  TRAVHRS. 

105.  Mrs.  Bligh.    By  RHODA  BBOUGHTON. 

106.  A  Stumble  on  the  Threshold.    By  JAMES  PAYN. 

107.  Hanging  Moss.    By  PAUL  LINDAU. 

108.  A  Comedy  of  Elopement.    By  CHRISTIAN  REID. 

109.  In  the  Suntime  of  her  Youth.    By  BEATRICE  WHITE  Y. 

110.  Stories  in  Black,  and  White.    By  THOMAS  HAHDY  and  Others. 
110$.  An  Englishman  in  Paris.    Notes  and  Recollections. 

111.  Commander  Mendoza.    By  JUAN  VALERA. 

112.  Dr.  Pauirs  Theory.    By  Mrs.  A.  M.  DIEHL. 

113.  Children  of  Destiny.    By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL. 

114.  A  Little  Minx.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

115.  Capfn  Davy's  Honeymoon.    By  HALL  CAINE. 

116.  The  Voice  of  a  Flower.    By  E.  GERARD. 

117.  Singularly  Deluded.    By  SARAH  GBAND. 

118.  Suspected.    By  LOUISA  STRATENUS. 

119.  Lucia,  Hugh,  and  Another.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NEEDELL. 
130.  The  Tutor's  Secret.    By  VICTOB  CHERBUHEZ. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.— ( Continued.) 

121.  from  the  Five  Rivers.    By  Mrs.  P.  A.  STEEL. 

122.  An  Innocent  Impostor,  and  Other  Stories.    By  MAXWELL  GRAY. 

123.  IdeitJa.    By  SARAH  GRAND. 

124.  A  Comedy  of  Masks.    By  ERNEST  DOWSON  and  ARTHUR  MOOBE. 
12.3.  Relics.    By  FRANCES  MACMAB. 

126.  Dodo:  A  Detail  of  the  Day.    By  E.  F.  BENSON. 

127.  A  Y\  oman  of  Forty.    By  ESM&  STUART. 

128.  Diana  Tempest.    By  MART  CHOLMONDELEY. 

129.  The  Red.pt  for  Diamonds.    By  C.  J.  CUTCLIFFE  IlTNE. 

130.  Christina  Chard.    By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PP.AED. 

131.  A  Gray  Eye  or  So.    By  FRANK  FRANKFORT  MOORK. 

132.  Earlii'Murt.    By  ALEXANDER  ALLARDYCE. 

133.  A  Marriage  Ceremony.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

134.  A  Ward  in  Chancery.     By  Mrs.  ALEXANDER. 

135.  Lot  13.    By  DOROTIIEA  GERARD. 

ISO.  Our  Manifold  Suture.    By  SARAH  GRAND. 

187.  A  Cos&y  Freak.    By  MAXWELL  GRAY. 

138.  A  B'-yinner.    By  RHODA  BROUGHTON. 

13i).  A  Yellow  Aster.     By  Mrs.  MANN  INOTON  CAFFYN  ("  IOTA"). 

140.  The  Rubicon.    By  E.  F.  BENSON. 

141.  The  Trespasser.    Bv  GILBERT  PARKER. 

142.  The  Rich  Miss  Riddett.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

143.  Mary  Fenwick's  Daughter.    By  LEATRICE  WHITBY. 

144.  Red  Diamonds.    By  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY. 

145.  A  Daughter  of  Music.    By  G.  COLMORE. 

143.  Outlaw  and  Lawmaker.    By  Mrs.  CAMPBF.LL-PRAED. 

147.  Dr.  Janet  of  Harley  Street.    By  ARABELLA  KENEALY. 

148.  George  ManderiHe's  Husband.    By  C.  E.  RAIMOND. 

149.  Vashti  and  Esther. 

150.  Timor's  Two  Worlds.    By  M.  JOKAI. 

151.  A  Victim  of  Good  Luck.    'By  W.  E.  XOHRIS. 

152.  The  Trail  of  th-e  Sword.    By  GILBERT  PARKER. 

153.  A  Mild  Barbarian.    By  EDGAR  FAWCETT. 

154.  The  God  in  the  Car.    By  ANTHONY  HOPE. 

155.  Children  of  Circumstance.    By  Mrs.  M.  CAFFYN. 
KG.  At  the  Gate  of  Samana.    By  WILLIAM  J.  LOCKE. 

157.  The  Justification,  of  Andrew  Lebrun      By  FRANK  BAKRETT. 
158   Dust  and  Laurels.    By  MARY  L.  PENDERED. 

159.  Thf  Good  Ship  Mohock.    By  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL. 

160.  Noeini.    By  S.  BAKING-GOULD. 

161.  The  Honour  of  Savetli.    By  S.  LEVETT  YEATS. 
1C2.  Kittifs  Engagement.    By  FLORENCE  WARDEN. 
163.  The  Mermaid.    By  L.  DOUGALL. 

1G4.  An  Arranged  Marriage.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

165.  Eve's  Ransom.    By  GEORGE  GISSING. 

160.  The  Marriage  of  Either.    By  GUY  BOOTHBY. 

167.  Fidelis.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

168.  Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges.    By  F.  F.  MoNTrfisoB. 

169.  The  Vengeance  of  James  Vansittart.    By  Mrs.  J.  II. 

170.  A  Study  in  Prejudices.    By  GEORGE  PASTON. 

171.  The  Mistress  of  Q>n?st.     By  ADELINE  SERGEANT. 

172.  In  the  Year  of  Jubilee.    By  GEORGE  GISSING. 

173.  In  Old  New  England.   By  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH. 

174.  Mrs.  Musgrave — and  Her  Husband.    By  R.  MARSH. 

175.  Xot  Counting  the  Cost.    By  TASMA. 

176.  Out  of  Due  Season.     By  ADELINE  SERGEANT. 

177.  Scytta  or  Charybdte  ?    By  RUODA  BROUGHTON. 

178.  In  Defiance  of  the.  King.    By  C.  C.  HOTCHKISS. 

179.  A  Bid  for  Fortune.    By  GUY  BOOTHBY. 

180.  The  Eing  of  Andaman.    By  J.  M  ACL  AREN  COBBAN. 

181.  Mr*.  Tregaski°-f.    By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PBAED. 

182.  The  Desire  of  the  Moth.    By  CAPEL  VANE. 

183.  A  Sc>f- Denying  Ordinance.    By  M.  HAMILTON. 

184.  Successors  to  the  Title.    By  Mrs.  L.  B.  WTALFORD. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.- (Continued.) 

185.  The  Lost  Stradivarim.    By  J.  MEADE  FALKNER. 

186.  The  Wrong  Man.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

187.  In  the  Day  of  Adversity.    By  J.  BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 

188.  Mistress  Dorothy  Marvin.    By  J.  C.  SNAITH. 

189.  A  Flash  of  Summer.    By  Mrs.  \V.  K.  CLIFFORD. 

190.  The  Dancer  in  Yellow.    By  W.  E.  NORRIS. 

"K)l.  The  Chronicles  of  Martin  Hewitt.    By  ARTHUR  MORRISON. 

192.  A  Winning  Hazard.    By  Mrs.  ALEXANDER. 

193.  The  Picture  of  Las  Cruets.    By  CHRISTIAN  REID. 

194.  The  Madonna  of  a  Day.    By  L.  DOUGALL. 

195.  The  Riddle  Ring.    By  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY. 
13o.  A  Humble  Enterprise.     By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

197.  Dr.  Nikola.    By  GUT  BOOTIIBT. 

198.  An  Outcast  of  the  Islands.     By  JOSEPH  CONRAD. 

199.  The  King's  Revenge.    By  CLAUDE  BRAT. 

200.  Denounced.    By  J.  BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 

201.  A  Court  Intrigue.    By  BASH,  THOMPSON. 

202.  The  Idol-Maker.    By  ADELINE  SERGEANT. 

203.  The  Intriguers.    By  JOHN  D.  BARRT. 

Each,  12mo,  paper  cover,  50  cents  j  cloth,  $1,001 


GEORG  EBERS'S  ROMANCES, 

Each,  IGino,  paper,   4O    cents  per  volume;   cloth,  75  cents. 

Sets  of  24  volumes,  cloth,  in  box,  $18. OO. 
In  tlie  Blue  Pike.  A  Romance  of  German  Life  in  the  early  Sixteenth  Century. 

Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.     1  volume. 
In  the  Fire  of  the  Forge.    A  Romance  of  Old  Nuremberg.    Translated  by 

MART  J.  SAFFORD.    a  volumes. 

Cleopatra.    Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.    2  volumes. 
A  Thorny  Path.    (PEHASPERA.)    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    2  volumes. 
An  Egyptian  Princess.    Translated  by  ELEANOR  GROVE.    2  volumes. 
TTarda.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.     2  volumes. 
Homo  Sum.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    1  volume. 
The  Sisters.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    1  volume. 
A  Question.    Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.    1  volume. 
The  Emperor.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    2  volumes. 
The  Burgomaster's  Wife.     Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.    1  volume. 
A  Word,  only  a  Word.     Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.    1  volume. 
Serapis.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    1  volume. 
The  Bride  of  the  Nile.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    2  volumes. 
Margery.    (GRED.)    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL.    2  volumes. 
Joshua.    Translated  by  MART  J.  SAFFORD.    1  volume. 
The  Elixir,  and  Other  Tales.     Translated  by  Mrs.  EDWARD  H.  BELL. 

With  Portrait  of  the  Author.     1  volume. 

"Dr.  Ebers's  romances  founded  on  ancient  history  are  hardly  equaled  by  any 
other  living  author.  ...  He  makes  the  men  and  women  and  the  scenes  move 
before  the  reader  with  living  reality.  "—Boston  Home  Journal. 

"  Georg  Ebers  writes  stories  of  ancient  times  with  the  conscientiousness  of  a 
true  investigator.  His  tales  are  eo  carefully  told  that  large  portions  of  them 
might  be  clipped  or  quoted  by  editors  of  truide-books  and  authors  of  histories  in- 
tended to  be  popular." — New  York  Herald. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers ;  or  sent  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publishers, 
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